The Southern Fried Harry Potter
by LLLVIS
Summary: The story of Harry Potter transplated to the American South...
1. Default Chapter

Intro:  
  
Howdy folks! Thanks for dropping by! This is my first attempt at anything like this, and you can thank (or swear at) my good friend Kissaki for prompting me to explore this avenue of creativity.  
  
I've added a Glossary and Notes section at the end of the story to help clarify a few things, for those readers out there who have no grasp of the genre I've set this in. I hope it helps!  
  
And now I guess, onto the story...  
  
  
  
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Amos Dumbledore waited for the last television set to be turned off in the trailer before venturing out from the shadows. He spotted her almost immediately...a very out-of-place cat on this particular spread. "Izzat you, Minnie?" inquired Amos quietly. With as much of a look of disappointment as a cat could muster, it materialized into a matronly older woman before Amos Dumbledore. "Yes" she said just a tad tersely, "I thought I'd have you pokin' around here for hours trying to find me!"  
  
"Oh, lucky me" mumbled Dumbledore.  
  
It was hard to be very fussed about Minnie's disposition. Everybody was on edge after the news.  
  
"So, it's true then is it? Lily and Earl Potter?" she inquired nervously. Upon Amos' reassuring look that the stories were indeed true, she began to slowly shake her head. "Lordy, Lordy, Lordy. Who'd a thunk it? What of their young'un? Harry?"  
  
"Hack's bringing him here as we speak" said Dumbledore.  
  
"You really think that's a good idea? Hack's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer." Minnie McGonnegal had little use for a layabout such as Hack. "He managed to git hisself tossed outta Hogwarts, how can you trust him so?"  
  
"I would trust Hack with my life, Minnie. And have on a couple of occaisions."  
  
As if on queue, the rumble of some mechanical nightmare approached them quickly. From astride the mechanical horse strode a mountain of a man. Long haired, bearded, clad in coveralls that looked as if they hadn't been washed since they were bought described Hack to the perverbial 'T'. Since it was a cold  
  
night, he was wearing an old Army field jacket to help keep warm. "Evenin' Perfesser, Mizz McGonnegal" he said.  
  
"Hack, where's the boy?" inquired Amos, almost too quickly. "Got him bundled up rightchere to keep him warm" said Hack, as he produced a large bundle from under the bib of his overalls. The infant was fast asleep.  
  
"My stars!" exclaimed Minnie, "What is that on his forehead?"  
  
All eyes looked to young Harry, and lo and behold there was a mark in the shape of a lightning bolt above his right eye, clear as day. "A result of the curse" said Amos. The others nodded in silent agreement. "He'll wear it with him the rest of his days as a reminder of a most terrible act, which he survived, and  
  
will never be able to recall. A trophy of sorts, of having bested Old M..."  
  
"PROFESSOR!" hissed Minnie, as loud as she could get away with. "Don't speak that devil's name aloud! We all know who done it, we don't need to be callin' out what's-his-name! I for one don't believe he's dead and gone, no siree. And I'm certainly not the only one."  
  
She was right. The look in Hack's eyes confirmed he also suspected as much, and truth be told, Dumbledore agreed with them that their nemesis was not gone, merely weakened. However, he was not afraid to speak his name aloud, but now was no time to impress upon his compadres the downright silliness  
  
of their superstitions.  
  
"You can't still be thinkin' to leave him with these...people, can you?" Minnie almost spat out the word 'people' in her sentence. "I've been keepin' an eye on them. They're terrible! That woman has boxes of instant grits in her cupboard, they put beans in their chili for heavens sake, and they think the Von Erichs'  
  
are on their way out of wrasslin'! " Minnie was almost indignant at this point.  
  
Amos diplomatically stepped in with a very soothing "Shhh" putting his finger to his lips. "They're also the only kin little Harry's got. Besides" added Amos, "nobody will find him here."  
  
At that, Amos walked up to the front door of the fairly new trailer home and set the bundled infant at the threshold. He then placed a letter in the folds of the blanket. "So that he'll know who he is one day" said Amos.  
  
When he returned to his little group, he looked meaningfully at Hack who was obviously fighting back tears. "Now, now, Hack. Harry will be fine" he said reassuringly.  
  
"I know, perfessor. Just don't seem right, a boy that young losing his momma and his daddy. Especially that way" he said, referring to their horrible plight. "But, I reckon he's gonna be famous."  
  
"That's right, Hack. Our entire world will know the name of Harry Potter. He's the boy who lived."  
  
  
  
  
  
Young Harry awoke with a start, and then a thought. Does a rooster have some innate sense to pick the worst time, on the worst day, to find the worst spot to start crowing? This time Red was right next to his window. Harry knew it would be mere moments before Aunt Daisy or his cousin Dirk would make  
  
sure he was up to start on his chores.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Harry slid on his freshest pair of jeans, an old Stryper t-shirt that had been handed down from Uncle Vern, to Dirk, somehow missing Blue (the family hound) in the process before it wound up in Harry's possession. He was pulling on his beat up pair of Justins when the clanging began.  
  
Harry lived just outside of the Dursley's proper residence. They had a pre- fabricated home.what the rest of the world called a trailer, or maybe a mobile home. It was definitely a nice one, nicer than any on the street. It was only a single-wide though, because Uncle Vern had said they could get a much better  
  
home if they didn't go for the double-wide. But Harry did not live within the confines of 'Dursley Manor.' No, Uncle Vern had made a deal with old man Williams, and limped home an ancient Winnebago RV. Recreational Vehicle. Harry chuckled everytime he heard that term because he simply could not  
  
imagine just what anybody would find remotely recreational to do in that thing, even when it must have been new.  
  
Of course, Uncle Vern had built up the situation first. "Harry, I've decided you need your own space" he said. Harry of course was in shock.it was one of the very rare times that any of the Dursley's spoke civil to him, much less took it upon themselves to consider any aspect of Harry's welfare. At least, considering  
  
his welfare in some way that wasn't designed to make it any more miserable. That fact right there should have been his first warning, but Uncle Vern, Aunt Daisy, and Dirk were too happy to know he was going to be not sharing the same roof as them that he missed all the signals to the contrary.  
  
Then came that fateful Thursday evening, back when Uncle Vern still owned an Ford F-150, he pulled into the Dursley's yard with this museum piece of American road heritage behind it. Of course the Winnebago had seen a good number of years go by since the last time it went anywhere under it's own  
  
power. Probably more years than Harry had been alive in fact. When Harry learned that this was to be his new home the number of emotions struggling for his attention was tremendous.  
  
What happened immediately afterwards is the truly strange part. The towing strap Uncle Vern had used snapped and the Winnebago was rolling by the sheer grace of gravity towards the telephone pole, easily 60 feet away. It was creaking and complaining the entire way, and struck the pole soundly. The  
  
pole seemed to survive ok, but the back end of the Winnebago was crumpled pretty bad.  
  
Uncle Vern slowly leveled his extremely unamused gaze at Harry after witnessing this occurrence. "I'm tellin' you, boy, this is EXACTLY why you git yer own space. I dunno how you done it, but I KNOW it was YOU who done that" pointing at the newly repositioned RV. Uncle Vern's voice had experienced a pretty  
  
healthy crescendo during those few sentences. Harry didn't know whether to be impressed that it was the most Uncle Vern had spoken to him in any one session in quite some time, or feel he was again in trouble for something that clearly wasn't his fault.  
  
That was four years ago. Uncle Vern had since traded in his F-150 for a Chevy Dually Crew Cab that he was immensely proud of. Harry had to move into the RV the night it repositioned itself. The RV just flat stunk. Much of it was because it had sat behind old man Williams' barn for God knows how many years to  
  
rot, but there were clear and definite signs that SOMETHING had lived in it recently. Harry had managed to patch up some of the bigger holes, and remove what was left of the original carpet and seat cusions that had long ago become someone's science experiment. These four years later, it still retained a  
  
good bit of it's musty, moldy smell.  
  
There were times when Harry would sit up front, in the drivers seat, and pretend to be on the road, going whereever the pavement could take him. That didn't last long, however, once Dirk spotted him up there. The very next day, Dirk had decided that he just couldn't do without his own chair on the porch,  
  
and that of course came out of Harry's RV.  
  
About two weeks shy of four years ago, Harry managed to give the Dursley's a good scare, apparently. He decided to stay outside at night and watch the stars, just to see what he could see. Blue chose that night to be far more active than usual, and Harry managed to startle him, causing Blue to bark out a  
  
warning that woke the whole area. Lights in the trailer came on, horses whinnied, other dogs started to bark, all before Uncle Vern got out the front door with his 12-guage in hand to see just what in the hell was going on.  
  
He of course found Harry out in the yard staring up at nothing.  
  
"What in the hell's goin' on out here?" bellowed Uncle Vern.  
  
"Nuthin' " replied Harry.  
  
"Nuthin' my ass. What's Blue barkin' at?"  
  
"Me. I decided to do a little star-gazing tonight and I think I surprised him."  
  
Uncle Vern closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in a vain attempt to comprehend the moment. "Boy," he muttered, "you got yerself exactly three seconds  
  
to git your butt back in that RV. AND STAY THERE!"  
  
The next day found Uncle Vern adding a hasp to each of the RV's doors. From that night on, when Harry was sent to bed it was never without Uncle Vern, Aunt Daisy, or Dirk accompanying him to his RV to lock him in at night.  
  
The clanging that greeted him this particular morning had to come from Dirk pounding a tire iron on the doorframe. Nobody else's pounding was that enthusiastic. Except perhaps Aunt Daisy's, but then she usually had to have some drama to be wound up over to get THAT enthusiastic.  
  
"Git up, cousin!" yelled Dirk. Harry found Dirk to be a bit of a mystery. Most schoolyard bully types you could just ignore and after awhile, after a long while in a couple of cases, they would get bored with whatever they were trying to bug you with and move on to something else. Not Dirk. Harry couldn't quite  
  
decide if it was Dirk's inability to realize Harry wasn't reacting much to him anymore, or dogged determination on Dirk's part, but Harry was pretty much sold on putting it down to Dirk's inability to figure things out.  
  
"I'm up, I'm up" muttered Harry. And stomped towards the door to open it. It remained locked. Dirk heard the familiar huffing from the other side that signified Dirk's laughter at the situation. 'Dirk, the easily amused, often is' thought Harry quietly to himself.  
  
"Yer gonna be in trouble if yer late gittin' yer chores done, cousin Harry!" taunted Dirk. "You wouldn't wanna git into trouble now would ya?!?"  
  
This was a regular game of Dirks. Dirk of course thought it was hilarious, and found new hilarity each time he perpetrated it on Harry. When Vern or Daisy scolded Harry for not getting his morning chores done they didn't particularly care to hear any excuses. So Harry had just learned to take it in stride.  
  
"C'mon, Dirk, unlock the stupid door already" yelled Harry. Harry often let himself fall victim to Dirk's mindless pranks because they had the nasty habit of getting under Harry's skin, mostly because they were so, well, mindless. Dirk obviously had great fun at Harry's outburst and his noiseless laughter sounded  
  
as if Dirk were perhaps having some kind of seizure. That was a regular morning fantasy of Harry's.  
  
Finally he heard Dirk left the padlock out of the hasp and Harry could open the door. "Yer late" said Dirk. "I don't think Aunt Daisy's gonna be too happy with you, making her wait on her breakfast and all. "  
  
Harry just rolled his eyes and headed for the barn to feed the horses.  
  
"And ya know, today ain't a day she's gonna take to bein' late. Not...at...all."  
  
Harry rounded on Dirk at that, to find him standing there with a very surprising look of smug satisfaction on his face. It wasn't often Harry found Dirk smart enough to be very smug, but this time Dirk knew he had struck gold. It was Dirks birthday.  
  
Dirks birthdays were always momentous occaisions. Vern and Daisy went to great pains to celebrate and lavish Dirk with tokens of their affection. Half the trailer was filled with the discards of their tokens, either because Dirk had grown bored with them or managed to render them inoperable. There was one  
  
room solely devoted to Dirks discards. Old footballs, Nintendo's, and bicycles in various states of disrepair. If anything stood in the way of Vern and Daisy's attempt at making the day go as smoothly as possible, it would be met with an increased amount of rancor.  
  
Harry sighed deeply, shook his head while he closed his eyes, and ran to the barn leaving the sound of Dirks laughter behind him.  
  
Fortunately for Harry, he wasn't as late as he'd thought. He apparently managed to make up some time while hurrying through his chores, and even if he was a few minutes late, Aunt Daisy didn't seem to notice. "Don't burn the bacon this time" Aunt Daisy warbled at him, "and don't turn the heat up too high  
  
for the eggs, you know how he hates them when the edges get crispy." Things seemed to be fairly normal this morning in Harry's opinion. That changed very quickly when Dirk and Uncle Vern came into the kitchenette.  
  
"Happy Birthday, sugar!" squeaked Aunt Daisy, giving Dirk a big hug. "Happy Birthday, boy!" said Uncle Vern while giving Dirk an exaggerated clap on the back. "This is a big day!"  
  
Harry kept to fixing the breakfast. Harry hadn't ever had a birthday celebration before.  
  
"We got you some great presents this year, boy! And after you open them, guess what? We're going into town!" Uncle Vern positively beamed. Dirk looked extremely excited. "You mean," gasped Dirk, "you mean we're really going?"  
  
"That's right!" exclaimed Uncle Vern. Harry had no clue what they were referring to, but obviously Uncle Vern was almost as excited about going whereever it was as much as Dirk. "We've got tickets to the time trials at the speedway!"  
  
There seemed to be a general release of excitement at the saying of those words, although they all pretty much had to know what the big event was before Uncle Vern got around to saying so. Harry found it curious that Uncle Vern would indulge Dirk's passion for NASCAR. Not that Uncle Vern wasn't a  
  
NASCAR fan, he was, and tremendous one at that. But Uncle Vern was a Dale Earnhardt fan...and Dirk liked Jeff Gordon. That led to many a fued that lasted all weekend long during race season. But today was different. Today was Dirks birthday. His 11th birthday at that.  
  
After breakfast, and after all the presents had been torn into, the clock finally arrived at the moment when they needed to pack up and go. Dirk and Aunt Daisy piled into the crew cabbed Chevy dually, and just before Harry could open his door Uncle Vern spun him around by the shoulder. "Now listen up, boy.  
  
There ain't gonna be no weird stuff, ya un'erstand? I ain't puttin' up with NUTHIN' outta you. Ya got it??" Harry nodded and got in the truck.  
  
It took the better part of an hour to drive to the speedway normally. Being that there was a NASCAR event going on, it took over two hours, and they had to park in a field across the street and walk from there. Being that it was summer, the heat was almost overwhelming. Harry, who had a wiry frame and  
  
whose chores tended to keep him in decent shape, wasn't having too hard of a time with it, but the rest of the Dursleys were given to being a bit on the pudgy side, and Dirk even more so.  
  
By the time they reached the grandstands, Harry noticed the early signs of sunburn on Dirks face and arms. Aunt Daisy apparently noticed it too, and quickly rubbed Dirk down with a coconut scented conconction designed to keep from getting too burnt. She then proceeded to apply liberal amounts to herself and  
  
passed the squirt bottle to Uncle Vern. Uncle Vern was used to the outdoors, being a feed salesman, so he didn't use very much. There was virtually none left when he finally passed it to Harry. Harry spread what he could on his forearms and pulled his gimme cap a little lower, hoping his face wouldn't burn. Harry didn't care for the smell of coconut anyway.  
  
Harry didn't follow NASCAR very much. He knew enough by listening to Uncle Vern and Dirks feuds to know who most of the important drivers were and what corporate logo they drove for. But when it came to what all is involved in a race, or in this case a time trial, he expected it would be pretty much what he  
  
briefly glimpsed on television: cars going around in a circle really really fast, and shirtless people much like the Dursleys sitting on the tops of actual working RV's drinking beer. They were here, too, he could see them across the track in the infield. But they were in the grandstands, and since this was a time trial,  
  
there were very few cars on the track at any one time, and they weren't really racing each other. It took a little longer for Dirks enthusiasm to wane than Harry at first anticipated, but after a couple of Uncle Vern's impatient replies to Dirks repeated requests to look through Vern's binoculars, the truth came out. "They ain't gonna be no racing today, son" Vern said in his best impatiently-nice tone of voice. "These are time trials, remember? They use these to figger out whose gonna be in which startin' position. 'Course, we all KNOW that Earnhardt's gonna get the pole..."  
  
It was a remark designed to provoke Dirk, and provoke it did. Dirk exercised his normal lack of diplomatic skills in letting Uncle Vern know exactly what he thought of Dale Earnhardt, but Dirk also did not have the presence of mind to take into consideration who's shirts and hats most of the crowd around them  
  
were wearing. This was Earnhardt country, and Dirk was making himself no friends.  
  
The voracity of Dirks tirade surprised even Harry, and took that opportunity to announce that he was going to see if he could get up toward the fence, or maybe even the pit., and with the barest of acknowledgements from Aunt Daisy, he took off.  
  
Harry really had no intention of mingling with the mass of humanity that was already at the fence, and had little interest in seeing the pit area. Instead, he wandered out toward the concession area. He had managed to scrape together a couple of dollars, and he was dying of thirst. So he went to buy a Coke.  
  
He then scouted for a place to get out of the direct heat, because it would melt the ice in his coke before he got halfway through it otherwise. He found some shade under the grandstands out near the grass, and headed there. He was suprised how quiet and unoccupied it was down there, but then a roar  
  
of approval from the crowd above provided explaination. Dale Earnhardt had obviously taken to the track, and was now performing some warm-up laps. If this had been race-day, Harry was sure he'd never have had this area to himself.  
  
After Harry had enjoyed his coke, he wandered back out into the sunlight. He found an area where some people had brought things to sell and display. He found some taxidermied animals, wallets and belts made out of snakeskin, a table full of beanie babies, he even found a 'gypsy' who offered to read his  
  
palm for free. That little episode struck Harry as very odd. Harry was just wandering by her booth, and she made him the same offer she had made to every other passerby. Being that it was so hot, Harry removed his cap and wiped his brow. When he looked back up at her, she was gazing at Harry for a moment, for all the world looking like she could not believe her eyes. She then seemed extremely nice to Harry, although that wouldn't be hard. Harry was used to people either not noticing him, or not being at all nice to him. Harry happened to also notice she did not seem quite as nice to the other people, either, and he caught her continuing to look after him. That made Harry feel a bit creepy so he went to another section of the fairgrounds and found something that made him really take notice: The Snake Charmers.  
  
Harry had only heard about these people but never thought they really existed. Yet here they were, with a sign and everything. And snakes...more snakes than Harry ever thought could live in one tank. They were all writhing and sticking their tongues out, and it fascinated Harry. He recognized many of them from science classes, and most of them were some form of grass snake. But Harry then came up on a snake in a tank all by itself that he didn't believe. He stood there in obvious awe, because the grizzled old man tending the display spoke "Ain't ya never seen one o' them afore, son? That there's a Diamondback rattler. Careful now, we don't want him bitin' anybody!" the old man cackled in self amusement. "Check this out" he said, and he removed the cover of the tank and reached in with his bare hands. Harry was stunned, he was certain the old man was going to get bit! "See? Gentle as a lamb" he said as he picked up the snake. As the snake uncoiled, it was far bigger than Harry, or many of the rest of the small crowd that was developing, had thought.  
  
"Wanna hold him, son?" the old man asked Harry. Or at least he thought he was asking Harry, but suddenly Dirk appeared at his shoulder, and Harry realized Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy were there, too. Dirk looked pale, which was a real trick for as much sun as he had already absorbed. So Harry just said "Sure." Before Aunt Daisy's protests gained volume, Harry had stepped up and held out his hands. The old man made to put the snake across Harry's outstretched hands when Harry heard "I hate that old man..."  
  
Harry looked around quickly, then looked at the old man. The old man appeared as if he hadn't heard a word, and it looked like Dirk was still too petrified to have said it. "What am I, some kind of circus freak?" Harry realized he was hearing the snake talk. He simply could not believe his ears. The crowd was  
  
thinning, having seen a young boy handle something as dangerous as a diamondback they figured something was up, and were rapidly losing interest. Aunt Daisy had switched from voicing her objections to Harry handling the huge snake to tending to Dirks uneasy stomach. Uncle Vern had apparently wandered over to the t-shirt vendor. The old man had turned away momentarily, so Harry spoke in a quiet voice "you can speak? That's amazing!"  
  
"Alright, that's enough" the old man said, half laughing. "Had his fangs and poison sacks removed a couple of years ago when I first got him. Even if he wanted to be ornery, he couldn't." At that, the old man took the snake and place him back in the aquarium tank, and replaced the screen over the top. "He couldn't hurt a fly, but nobody can tell that by lookin' at him." The old man then went to tend to one of the other tanks.  
  
Harry leaned down and said "can you hear me?" "Yeth.." came the reply. He clearly had the snakes attention now. "How would you feel, living in a thmall cage for motht of your life?" said the snake. "I wishth I could ethcape."  
  
Harry immediately sympathized. It must be a terrible fate he thought, then he thought about his own situation. Even though the snake didn't have a Dirk to contend with, that problem was quickly solved. Harry was violently shoved aside by a reinvigorated Dirk who blurted "I heard what the old man said, no fangs, no poison! No big trick to handling them then, is there?!?" Dirk began knocking on the glass to get some kind of reaction out of the snake.  
  
At that moment, it was as if the aquarium just gave up hope. First, Harry thought Dirk had simply broken the tank. It would have been no big surprise if he had. But Harry saw no broken glass, no pieces anywhere. But then his attention was immediately diverted to the huge Diamondback wrapping himself around Dirks outstretched arm, making its way quickly up toward Dirk's head.  
  
It took a couple of moments for Dirk to find his voice, and when he did, he found the loudest part first. Dirk was screaming, and starting to flail. He knocked Harry to the ground in his impromptu choreography and managed to shake the snake loose, but only after getting the attention of the crowd and causing them all to panic. The only two people in the crowd not trying to distance themselves from Dirk were the old man and Aunt Daisy. "Thankth, buddy..." Harry heard as he searched for his dislodged glasses. When he regained them, he couldn't find the snake anywhere. The old man was looking around furiously, shouting "It's alright, he's toothless!" and took off in a direction he determined the snake had gone. Dirk had managed to get sick in all the excitement and was wearing half the result all down the front of his jeans and his new Jeff Gordon t-shirt. Aunt Daisy was futily trying to clean him up.  
  
Mere moments later, Harry percieved a presence directly behind him. He looked up to see the towering, unhappy visage of Uncle Vern. Harry quickly looked at the aquarium on the table, only to find it completely intact. "I told you, boy" Uncle Vern said through clenched teeth, "I wasn't gonna abide nuthin' weird  
  
today. I dunno what you done, but I know you was the one who done it. You are gonna catch such a beatin' when we git home."  
  
  
  
  
  
Glossary and Notes  
  
The setting is supposed to be what's considered America's "Deep South." This could be just about any of the former Confederate States, but I pictured  
  
something like Georgia or Alabama, maybe even Texas. America's 'South' has a unique culture all it's own, and that's what I've tried to represent. However,  
  
for anybody completely unfamiliar with the area or culture, some of the references I've used might be completely lost on the reader, so I thought I'd try to  
  
do a little bit of explaining here.  
  
If I didn't cover something you have any questions about, please feel free to email me.  
  
Trailer - used generically, this term applies to a lot of variations on some kind of apparatus you hook up to another vehicle and tow. Anything from a little  
  
moving trailer you can hook up to a car, to a semi-trailer you find attached to a big diesel truck, or lorry. However in this case, it is a dwelling. There are  
  
'trailer parks' all over America, they are typically very low cost and do not have the structural integrity of regular homes. Trailers typically have a 'regular'  
  
size, then there are larger versions which are basically two of them stuck together, known as 'double- wide's' because they are twice as wide as the normal  
  
ones. Not all people living in trailers live in a trailer park, though. When you get out into rural country it is not uncommon to see a trailer as the dwelling on a  
  
large-ish plot of land. This was the setting I envisioned.  
  
Dually - I don't think this is a real word, but it is a term used to describe a pickup-truck with dual rear wheels. Typically this is found on very large pickup  
  
trucks, designed to haul very heavy loads. It is also a feature often purchased just to show off with. Where exactly Uncle Vern's reason for having a dually  
  
comes into play is somewhere inbetween!  
  
Chevy - a common truncation of Chevrolet.  
  
NASCAR - the National Association of Stock Car Racing. Or something very close to that. Today's NASCAR is enjoying it's highest popularity ever. And while  
  
auto racing is very popular all across the USA, the 'South' has come to embrace it as their own. It is not uncommon to see people adorn their personal  
  
vehicles with the number of their favorite driver somewhere on their back window. The race cars are very colorful, and typically are sponsored by multiple  
  
concerns, but there is generally one primary corporate sponsor whose logo and colors dominate the decorative scheme of the car.  
  
Dale Earnhardt - an extremely popular race car driver who, sadly, lost his life earlier in the year 2001 at the end of the first race of the season. He was  
  
nicknamed 'The Terminator' because of his no-holds barred style of competition. His car was sponsored by GM (General Motors, the home of Chevrolet)  
  
Goodwrench, whose primary color is black.  
  
Jeff Gordon - another extremely popular race car driver, but for different reasons. He is very young and handsome, and it is no big secret that his daddy paid  
  
a lot of money to buy Jeff a race car team and train him to be the driver, instead of 'working his way up through the ranks' as so many other drivers must.  
  
He wins often, too. He seems to be a driver that a lot of NASCAR fans love to hate.  
  
pickup truck - a very common personal vehicle. It consists of a cab, much like a car except it only has the front seat and no room behind them, and  
  
sometimes they have either 'extended cabs' which include space behind the front seats, or crew cab which has four door and a full back seat just like a car.  
  
Behind the cab is an open cargo area.  
  
grits vs. instant grits - ok, I have no personal knowledge on this one, I was just borrowing the reference from the movie "My Cousin Vinnie" which does a  
  
pretty good job of showing the clashes of cultures in America. It is set in the deep American south as well. I am to understand that 'instant grits' are  
  
considered less than desirable.  
  
Von Erichs - a stage name of a family of professional wrestlers. The father enjoyed notoriety as a professional wrestler, and his sons continued the tradition.  
  
in the 80's they were very popular, but as 1990 drew near the family experienced a number of tragedies, and between medical problems and suicides, at  
  
least four of the brothers perished.  
  
Wrestling - I of course am referring to the WWF and its ilk.  
  
RV - Recreational Vehicle. This term is applied to those self-contained monstrosities roaming the highways and byways of America (and beyond!) They range  
  
anywhere from just enough room to curl up and go to sleep in the back, to palaces on wheels where you have enough room to entertain a medium number  
  
of guests and put them all up for the night without ever having to leave the vehicle. However in this instance of course we're dealing with a very old one. It  
  
just seems to me you often see these things rotting outside some rural home as if it got parked there and forgotten about...come to think of it that seems  
  
to happen with a lot of automobiles in rural communities, but the RV suits the story's purpose! Winnebago is a popular maker of these.  
  
Justins - Justin is a popular boot maker out of Texas. 


	2. The Southern Fried Harry Potter Chapter...

Chapter 2  
  
Intro:  
  
It occurs to me that in my initial offering I wiped out a somewhat important piece of info. I have altered the character names to reflect a more 'Southern' naming convention. There's lots of debate going on amongst those I have asked to proofread, and I've certain received a number of very good suggestions. For what it's worth, I'm attempting to keep the 'southern' names as close to the original character name as I can. Some I wanted to change just for the heck of it. I thought 'Aunt Daisy' would invoke a little more rural feel than keeping the name Petunia, but it still needed to be a flower (Petunia, Lilly, Daisy.you get the idea.) For example, one of my biggest dilemmas was Dudley. Dudley could be a southern name, but if there is a character in this story that deserves the name Bubba, it's him. And I mean name, not a nickname! I have met a few so I do know they exist!! But I felt I should go ahead and modify it at least a little bit in the spirit of things, and that's how I came up with Dirk. I knew a Dirk once and I suspect their formative years are fairly parallel to one another.  
  
Also on a personal note, the 'beans in their chili for heaven's sake' in chapter one.that's a personal pet peeve. Here in Texas, we have chili contests all over the southern portion of the state, and it's a big deal. Chili is like barbeque.you get different types from different areas of the country, but there's one hard and fast rule I (and I think most true Texans) stick to: Beans do NOT go in chili! From Louisiana we have the wonderful dish of 'red beans and rice.' That's a SIDE dish that goes great with chili! Beans should NOT be in the chili itself. Bad bad bad! That's like putting potato in burritos, it's just a cheap way to fill you up! EVIL!  
  
And now, on with our story:  
  
  
  
If a ride home from anywhere could be memorable, for either good or bad reasons, this one was. They got to the truck and Uncle Vern banished Harry to riding home in the rear. That suited Harry just fine as it turns out, being that Aunt Daisy didn't have much to work with to clean up Dirk. It didn't take long for Harry to overhear a couple of choice comments pertaining to Dirk's odor.  
  
When they got home, Uncle Vern stayed true to his word. Harry took licks from Uncle Vern's belt for what seemed like a couple of hours, but in reality things didn't last more than a few minutes. But it was during this interminable hellish period that Aunt Daisy ran in and yelled at Uncle Vern. Harry wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to what Uncle Vern was yelling at him, instead he concentrated on just trying to get through this as quickly as possible, so he missed whatever it was Uncle Vern had said. Uncle Vern did get Harry's attention when he invoked his parents' names, and that's when Aunt Daisy arrived.  
  
"VERN!" she shouted. "You have to watch your mouth! You can't say that, remember?!?" It was at this point that Uncle Vern stopped, and after a couple of moments of awkward silence, told Harry to go to his 'room' without supper. There were very odd looks exchanged between Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy as he left, as if Uncle Vern might have realized he said something very wrong.  
  
It couldn't have been Uncle Vern being apologetic for casting aspersions at Harry's lineage, quite the opposite. Both Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy didn't miss the opportunity to take pot-shots at Earl and Lilly Potter whenever the subject came up, which wasn't often if they could help it. Harry wondered if Uncle Vern had simply crossed the lines of good taste (huh, fat chance he laughed to himself) or if he had really said something important. They never talked to Harry much about his real parents other than to let them know that THEY were not his real parents. It must have been a terrible car wreck that took their lives and left Harry with the lightning bolt scar. Harry went to be with a very maudlin attitude.  
  
  
  
The next morning went pretty much like they all had. Harry got up, pulled on some jeans and T-shirt and his boots, and set out to feed the animals. He always liked to put it that way because, after he got done with the horses and Blue (the family hound) and the chickens, he usually went indoors and was relegated to making breakfast for the Dursleys.  
  
There was no sign of recognition of last night's events in anyone's face.except perhaps Uncle Vern, and the only recognition of last night's events he seemed to display was that he clearly didn't think he'd given Harry nearly enough swats.  
  
Being that it was summer they didn't have to worry about catching the bus to school. After breakfast was done, Harry was on KP while the rest of the family generally went into the den and positioned themselves for a lengthy day in front of the television.  
  
While Harry was finishing his cleaning, and envelope came fluttering in through one of the window vents. It was not uncommon for the wind to have odd patterns, and the occasional dust devil could pick stuff up and carry it an impressive distance, so Harry didn't consider it all that odd.until he read who the enveloped was addressed to:  
  
Harry Potter  
  
The RV against the pole  
  
Rural route 4  
  
Harry gaped openly. He'd never received any mail before. Oh sure, Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy would gladly hand him the 'occupant' envelopes, which were usually advertisements for things nobody wanted. This, however, was an entirely different matter. This was addressed directly to him. There were no stamps, no postmark, no return address. It was a made of a fairly thick paper, he noticed, and near one edge it looked like it had been scraped against a couple of very sharp and pointy things.  
  
Harry dawdled a bit too long in his shock, and Dirk noticed him holding the letter and quickly snatched it from Harry's grasp. "Give that back! It's mine!" shouted Harry as Dirk began giggling. Dirk ran into the den yelling "Hey, check this out! Harry got mail!!" Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy pried their attention away from the television to see what Dirk and Harry were arguing over. Indeed, Dirk held an envelope that Harry was trying to retrieve. Uncle Vern stood up and took it, and Dirk certainly offered up no resistance. Harry resigned with one more "It's mine, it's addressed to me."  
  
Uncle Vern eyed it suspiciously at first. Very suspiciously because it was indeed addressed to Harry. Aunt Lilly got up to look at it about the time that Uncle Vern turned it over and saw the wax seal, stamped with "Hogwarts School of Wizardry" and a crest.  
  
Harry noticed that both Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy went immediately pale once they turned the envelope over. He mentally kicked himself for not having done that. Obviously the return address showed on the back flap of the envelope, and not in the upper left-hand corner of the front as most mail has it.  
  
Aunt Daisy was still speechless, she just gave out this little whimper and brought her hand to her mouth as if she had just received some really bad news. Uncle Vern turned redder by the moment as he started to tear up the envelope.  
  
"Hey!" protested Harry. "That's mine! It's addressed to me and I want it!"  
  
Uncle Vern gave him a look so serious, so menacing, that Harry's voice got caught in his throat. "This ain't got nuthin' to do with you, boy. NUTHIN'. You hear me? Now forget about it and git back to your chores."  
  
Harry skulked back into the kitchen and put the remaining dishes away. He spent the rest of the day mechanically going through his daily chores, but his mind never got off the envelope addressed directly to him.  
  
The next day, again, started much like the day before which had started like most of the summer days before that. He got dressed, fed the animals, and this time while cleaning the dishes he was actively looking out the window to see what he could see. He made it a point to leave one of the windows open, and when Aunt Daisy asked him why he had a window open on a summer morning when they had the air conditioning going inside the trailer, Harry replied that it helped cool the kitchen down faster and should save a few bucks on their electric bill. Aunt Daisy accepted that with just the remonstration of "just be sure you close it when you're finished."  
  
Harry was hoping for an encore performance of yesterday. Of course he realized the likelihood of that happening again was virtually slim. Harry looked down to get the next dish and jumped in surprise when an envelope hit him square in the forehead.  
  
It was thick enough that when it fell in the sink it did not absorb much water, but it didn't matter. Harry's brief exclamation was enough to bring Aunt Daisy into the kitchen and she immediately spotted the envelope.  
  
"Oh NO!" Aunt Daisy wailed as she picked it up. She turned it so, again, Harry could not see the seal on the back. Uncle Vern came in and managed to be the only one of the family to perform an encore performance of the day before, turning redder with every tear of the envelope. He then pushed Harry aside, turned on the taps and stuffed the shredded remnants down the garbage disposal, and turned it on. Harry's second envelope went down the drain with a sickening, sucking growl of the mechanical monster that lived under the sink and had a voracious appetite for anything you cared to give it.  
  
Harry's brief thought of 'well, that was over quickly' was premature. Uncle Vern rounded on him and demanded, "where in the hell did THAT come from?!?" Harry froze momentarily, and just pointed to the window. Uncle Vern slammed the window shut and locked it. "I dunno where yer getting' those things from, boy, but you'd better STOP." Harry was again speechless, he had no idea where they were coming from, or from who, and what's more there was a new sound in the kitchen. Aunt Daisy was actually crying. Weeping would be a better word, thought Harry. He couldn't understand how him having a letter addressed to him, two days in a row, coming in through the window could make Aunt Daisy so upset.until he thought about that chain of events then started to see how, yeah, that could probably wig someone out pretty good.  
  
Aunt Daisy took a few minutes to regain her composure. She was really upset. Whatever it was about all of this, she seemed to be the only one really having trouble dealing with it. Uncle Vern would get really mad, but then once he'd torn up the offending envelope he was pretty much over it. Dirk didn't pay it much mind, but then.well that joke almost writes itself now doesn't it?!?  
  
So again, Harry spent the day wondering about these mysterious envelopes. He spent the night wondering about them as well. So much so he had trouble feeling sleepy at all. He got up and gazed out one of the windows in the RV. He noticed a couple of owls perched on one of the fences, and he watched them for awhile to see if they went after anything. They didn't. Harry wasn't sure how long he stayed up watching them, but it was a good couple of hours, and they didn't budge. Harry finally got tired and fell asleep.  
  
The next morning went the same as the first, until after breakfast that is. Aunt Daisy was going to do the dishes. She usually did them when he and Dirk had to go to school, but this was summer and she enjoyed not having to do them. But today, she was going to do them. Harry could not help but notice she kept the window shut and locked.  
  
Harry didn't have a lot to do around the trailer, and Uncle Vern tersely asked Harry to stay inside today. Harry obliged, of course he had little choice. It did not take long before Harry longed to be doing his chores than sitting around the den watching televisual pablum that was put out on a daily basis. Harry sulked, but at least he was quiet, Uncle Vern was quiet, Aunt Daisy was occupied so she was quiet, and Dirk was nowhere to be found so he was blissfully without that little annoyance.  
  
It was almost noon when the first one came. An envelope shot through the slot in the door. Harry wanted to go get it but was intercepted by a very serious look on Uncle Vern's face. He stomped over and as he stooped to pick up the envelope, another one came through the slot. Then another. Then they started coming one right after the other, and eventually it grew into a stream of envelopes. There was a small pile of envelopes in the entryway in just a couple of minutes. Harry couldn't help but grin, by now he recognized the color and shape of the envelopes, and the ink used to address them as looking exactly like the first two that had arrived. He could see that they all had seals on the back, to, but could not read them. Uncle Vern of course was reacting much as he had the first two days, except moreso with the multitude of envelopes that had arrived.  
  
It was Aunt Daisy who first noticed them. Harry and Uncle Vern were far more concerned with trying to get their hands on the envelopes. Aunt Daisy let out one of those squeaky screams she seemed famous for, with a look of stark terror in her eyes. Uncle Vern looked at her, puzzled, and demanded "Well, WHAT?"  
  
Aunt Daisy simply pointed out the window. Harry and Uncle Vern's gaze followed her outstretched finger, to the front yard. There were owls everywhere. On the ground, on the fence posts, on the truck, all in the trees.just everywhere. And not just the common barn owls, either. Harry spotted some that he didn't think were from around here. He couldn't understand why they were all here, either, but then he also didn't see what there was to be frightened of.it was just kinda weird, that's all.  
  
Surprisingly, Harry noticed that both Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy had a glimmer of recognition on their faces. Harry got the idea they may know exactly what was going on. Before he could ask anything, however, Uncle Vern faced him. "Look, boy. This won't stand, ya hear me? We ain't gonna sit around here and get buried in envelopes and swarmed by owls." He looked at Aunt Daisy "Go find Dirk, and pack a couple o' bags. We're leavin'. Harry, you come with me."  
  
Harry was stunned. He wasn't sure what he was in for but he made himself promise to pay more attention to what Uncle Vern might say. Instead, Uncle Vern didn't say much of anything. He went back to their bedroom, retrieved an old suitcase, and led Harry out to the RV. He faced Harry and said "Pack some clothes, we're fixin' to leave in five minutes."  
  
Sure enough, five minutes later when Harry emerged from his RV, Aunt Daisy and Dirk were already in the truck, and Uncle Vern was headed for Harry. He grabbed Harry's suitcase from him told him 'git in the truck.'  
  
They were on the road a minute later.  
  
  
  
  
  
Notes and Glossary:  
  
I can't think of much new in this boring little chapter. I definitely have a direction to go with it, but I had to break things up to keep them from being too ponderously long.  
  
Oh yeah, I moved this from the Harry Potter author fic's to just 'Harry Potter'.I was informed I had the original in the wrong spot. Sorry 'bout that!  
  
Some of the 'Southern' elements in this chapter are perhaps a bit more subtle. The term "fixin' to" is very common, meaning you are preparing to do something, or almost ready to. I think the comedienne Brent Butler does a routine around that particular phrase.  
  
The reference to "KP" is an old military term. It stands for Kitchen Police or Kitchen Patrol or something like that, anyway the upshot of it is you worked in the kitchen.  
  
I gave the Dursley's a dog and named it 'Blue'.that comes from another movie "No Time For Sergaents" with Andy Griffith. Yes, it's old, but it's flipping hysterical. The book is of course better but the movie is well worth seeing. If you see it you'll get the type of animal (and behavior) I had in mind.  
  
Owls aren't foreign to the South. Of course a snow owl won't be seen, but we have 'barn owls' aplenty.  
  
The term 'dawdle' means to waste time, to poke along, to delay. 


	3. The Southern Fried Harry Potter Ch. 3

The Southern Fried Harry Potter  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
  
It was a whirlwind succession of back roads, truck stops, and flea-bag motels. At each one a number of envelopes addressed to "Harry Potter" managed to find them. Harry thought Uncle Vern was on the verge of snapping like a twig.  
  
Until, that is, Uncle Vern thought he'd hit upon the perfect solution. They had stopped at some gas station that also served as a post office and trading post, and Uncle Vern had struck up a conversation with a man he apparently knew. He returned to the truck with a look of relief and an unshakeable grin on his face. "Right, we're set now. Buckle yer seat belts 'cuz it's gonna be a bumpy ride."  
  
Uncle Vern wasn't kidding. He took a side road off the highway for about a mile and a half, and seemed to be looking for some kind of landmark. He apparently found it, and turned off the paved road onto what looked like nothing better than a low spot in the grass.  
  
It turned out there was actually a trail, but it was not easy to see, nor follow. The seat belt idea was definitely a good one as they all got tossed around pretty good inside the truck. Uncle Vern had to slow to a crawl to keep them all from revisiting this afternoons lunch.  
  
They stayed on that trail for what seemed like an eternity, but it turned out Uncle Vern was indeed heading for something. There was a barn sitting out here in the middle of nowhere. Obviously, some kind of horse and/or cattle house out on the old mans land. Uncle Vern rolled to a stop not far from the structure, which after a number of years had turned into little more than a teetering piece of shade. "Yes, this should do the trick" muttered Uncle Vern.  
  
They all wandered inside. It managed to remain dark inside, even though the sun had not completely set yet. Uncle Vern had brought out his big flashlight, and was checking out their new surroundings, chuckling to himself. His revelry was broken by Dirk of all people. "I hate it!" yelled Dirk. "There's not even a TV!"  
  
Uncle Vern almost delivered a strong rebuke, until he caught the look on Aunt Daisy's face. She obviously agreed with Dirk. Uncle Vern just managed to say "We'll give this a try, there's nowhere else to go to tonight. And nobody will find us here."  
  
After a dinner of nearly plastic sandwiches Uncle Vern picked up at their last stop, picked out their respective patches of ground and prepared to get some sleep. Outside, the clouds turned angry and started to grumble, and quickly erupted in a fit of lightning, thunder, and rain.  
  
Thanks to Dirks whining about missing a favorite television show, Harry figured out tomorrow would be his birthday. Well, at least this birthday was going to have a far more interesting story than his previous ones. Not that it was going to be any more enjoyable, mind you.  
  
They had all bedded down, and so far as Harry could tell everyone else had fallen asleep. Harry reflected on how this particular birthday was going to be spent in a smelly, leaky excuse for a barn. He reflected on all those letters trying to get to him and wondered what they were about, who they were from. He hoped that when (and if) they returned to their house that the trailer would be overflowing with letters, and he could finally get his hands on one. Even better, perhaps there were some waiting for him in the ancient RV that served as his room.  
  
Harry got a glimpse of Dirk's watch, and noticed it was only a couple of minutes before midnight. "Well," he thought to himself "Happy Birthday to me."  
  
It sounded as if something was trying to knock the barn down. It sounded as if something were going to knock the thing down and leave no trace of it or anything that was unlucky enough to be inside it. Amid shouts of "What the hell was that?!?" the big barn door just fell into the building. Through it came the biggest man Harry ever saw, and he did not look happy. Not happy at all. All that hair and beard on that huge body just looked very, very unhappy.  
  
"Oh, sorry 'bout that…" the giant said. "Ah guess these doors were meant to slide sideways instead of swing in and out. My bad." He reached down and lifted the massive door with ease and propped it back up. "You got any coffee? I've been on the road a long time. Scoot over ya lump, and let me set a spell." This last he said to Dirk who had been sitting on a bale of hay.  
  
"Who the hell are you?!?" shouted Uncle Vern, who could now be seen to be holding his shotgun. Dirk had skittered behind Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy. "I demand you leave at once!"  
  
"Oh shut up Dursley" he said, as he reached out and grabbed Vern's shotgun and bent it into an oversized horseshoe with hardly any effort. "Anyway, Harry, a very Happy Birthday to ya. I got somet'in' here for ya somewheres….ah" and he produced a box and presented it to Harry. "It might have got a bit smushed on the way here but it should still be ok."  
  
Harry accepted the box not knowing what to say. The silence was only punctuated by the occaisional bit of thunder, and the odd squeak coming out of various Dursleys. He opened the box cautiously, to find a sizeable birthday cake. Harry wanted to say 'Thank you' but somehow when the words finally came out, they were "Who are you?"  
  
The low grumbling turned out to be the giant chuckling to himself. "True, I haven't introduced mahself. The name's Remus Hackforth, but everyone calls me 'Hack'. I'm 'Keeper of Keys' at Hogwarts. Say, where's that coffee? Or if you have anything stronger, that'd be mighty fine as well…"  
  
He looked around in the clearing, put some straw and spare wood in a pile, squatted down in front of it, and all of a sudden there was a small fire going. Hack produced a poker and some sausages from his many pockets, after removing a few other items of passing interest, and started to cook them.  
  
"Don't touch a thing that man might give you Dirk" said Uncle Vern.  
  
Hack laughed "Yer son don't need fattening up anymore, Dursley, these are for Harry." To Harry they were the best things he'd ever eaten, he was so hungry. Finally, since nobody was talking, Harry said "I'm sorry, but I still don't know who you are…" After a gulp of coffee, Hack said "Call me Hack. Everyone does. And like I told you, I'm 'Keeper of Keys' at Hogwarts. And of course you know all about Hogwarts."  
  
"Er, no" Harry said quietly. Hack looked like he'd just been gut-kicked. "Sorry!" Harry said quickly. "SORRY?" shouted Hack. "It's them who should be sorry" he shouted as he pointed at the Dursleys, who tried to back even further into what was left of the darkness. "I knew you weren't getting' yer letters, but I never thought you'd not know about Hogwarts, for Petes sake. Didn't ya never wonder where yer parents got all their learnin' from?"  
  
"All what learnin'?" asked Harry. "All WHAT?" Hack was incredulous. "Hang on just one second." Hack quickly got to his feet, and in his anger he seemed to have swelled, and filled more of the little barn than before. The Dursleys were cowering. "You mean to tell me this boy, THIS boy, don't know nuthin' from nuthin'?"  
  
Harry took this exactly the wrong way. "I do know some things, like maths and stuff" he said. He did attend public school after all, and while he didn't make the honor roll, his grades weren't what you would call bad. Hack brushed off Harry's words "I mean about OUR world. Your world, my world, yer parents world!"  
  
"What world?" inquired Harry, innocently.  
  
Hack looked as it he was gonna bust. "DURSLEY!!" Hack shouted, anger flaring in his eyes. Uncle Vern merely mumbled something unintelligible. Hack glared at Harry "But you must know about yer mom and dad? I mean, they're famous. Yer famous!"  
  
"What?" exclaimed Harry. "My mom and dad weren't famous were they?" he asked, turning to face the Dursleys.  
  
"You don't know" muttered Hack. "You don't know!" he said more forcefully. Hack ran his fingers through his mane in frustration. "You don't know what ya are?"  
  
Uncle Vernon finally discovered a reserve of courage. "Stop it. Stop right there, buster. I forbid you to tell the boy anything." Hack leveled a gaze on Uncle Vern that would have sent most men running. Every word Hack uttered dripped with fury. "You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left with him? I was there! I saw him leave the letter with Harry! And you've kept it from him all these years?!?"  
  
"Kept what from me?" asked Harry, excitedly but confused.  
  
"Stop! I forbid you!" pleaded Uncle Vern. Aunt Daisey gasped in horror.  
  
"Oh go boil an egg, both of ya" said Hack. "Harry, yer a wizard."  
  
There was silence. Only the wind and the now-distant thunder could be heard. Harry finally found his voice. "Come again?" he asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yer a wizard. And you'll be a real crackerjack too, once you get trained up right, I'd say" said Hack. "With the mom and dad you had, what else would you be? And I reckon it's about time you read yer letter."  
  
With that, Hack reached into yet another pocket and produced another yellowish letter, inked in green. Harry opened it and read "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, headmaster Amos Dumbledore Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International ComFed of Wizards.  
  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
We are pleased to announce you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Next semester starts September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.  
  
Yours Sincerely,  
  
Minnie McGonnagal  
  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Questions ran rampant through Harry's head.  
  
After a few minutes, Harry muttered "What do they mean they 'await my owl'?"  
  
"Oh good grief" muttered Hack. Hack then produced a quill and parchment, wrote a quick note, then produced a very small owl from another pocket, tied to note to its foot and let it go. He sat back down on the hay bale and said "Now…where was I?"  
  
Uncle Vern stepped a little closer. "He ain't goin'."  
  
Hack looked at him with an almost amused look on his face. "As if a great muggle like you is gonna stop him." Hack chuckled.  
  
"A what?" asked Harry.  
  
"A muggle. Um, it's what we call non-magical folks like them. And I'm sorry to say you've been saddled with the saddest bunch of muggles I ever laid eyes on" said Hack.  
  
"We swore we would raise the boy right" said Uncle Vern. "We'd raise him without all that wizardin' nonsense, and beat that stuff out of him if he displayed any. Best thing for him if ya ask me."  
  
Harry leveled a gaze at Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy. "You knew? All this time? And you never told me??" Harry's voice experienced an uncontrollable crescendo in this string of questions.  
  
"Knew?" bellowed Aunt Daisy. "Of course we knew. How could you not after knowing what my sister was? Oh I remember when my sister got her letter, mom and dad were all over themselves when they learned there was a witch in the family. But I…and only I, saw her for what she really was. A FREAK! Always turning things into other things just for the hell of it. Mom and dad never saw it of course, I suspect she had them under some kind of spell." Aunt Daisy kept going a little while, no doubt unleashing pent up frustration that had built over the last several years. "Then she met that Potter at school. They got married and had you, and I knew you would be just as weird, if not worse. Then she went and got herself blown up and we got saddled with you."  
  
Harry had gone pale. "Blown up?" asked Harry. "You told me my parents died in a car wreck."  
  
"Car wreck?!?" yelled Hack, scaring the Dursleys back into the shadows. "As if anything so earthly could do in Lilly and Earl Potter. That's outrageous! This is outrageous! Harry Potter not even knowing his own story, when every kid in our world knows his name."  
  
"But why? What happened?" Harry asked rather innocently.  
  
The rage faded quickly from Hacks face. He looked at Harry with almost mournful eyes. "Oh, I never expected this" said Hack in a very low voice. "When Dumbledore said there might be trouble getting hold of ya, I never imagined how much ya didn't know. Oh Harry…I don't know if I'm the right person to tell you, but someone's gotta. Ya cain't very well go off to Hogwarts not knowing." At this he directed a scornful look in the direction of the Dursleys.  
  
"Well, it's best you know as much as possible, I'll tell you everything I know, but I dunno everything. Parts of the story may never truly be known." Hack sat back down and stared at the fire for a few moments. "It begins, I suppose, with a person named… named… good grief I cain't believe ya dunno his name. Everybody in our world knows."  
  
"Who?" asked Harry.  
  
"Well, I don't like sayin' the name if I can help it. Nobody does." Said Hack.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Great horny toads, Harry, people are still scared." Hack sighed. "See, there was this great wizard who went bad. Bad as you can git. Worse, even. His name was…" Hack swallowed hard, but no words came to him.  
  
"Could you write it down?" asked Harry, trying to help.  
  
"Nah. Cain't spell. Alright, his name…is Old Mort." Hack visibly shuddered after speaking the name. "Don't make me say that again. Anyway, this wizard, about twenty years ago, started gathering followers. Got'em too. Some were afraid, some just wanted to share in a bit of his power, because he was gittin' hisself power alright, they were dark days Harry. Ya didn't know who to trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches, terrible things happened. He was taking over. Some folks stood up to him, and he killed'em. Horribly. Hogwarts was about the only safe place left. I recon Dumbledore was the only one that…you know who…was afraid of. Wouldn't dare try taking on the school, not then, anyway. Now, yer mom and dad were as good a wizards as I ever knew. Head of the class, both of'em, when they were at school. Wonder why 'you know who' never tried to get them on his side, probably figured they were too close to Dumbledore. All anybody knows is, he turned up where y'all was living ten years ago, on Halloween. He came to yer house and…and…" Hack started to sob at this point. "He killed yer mom and dad. I knew yer mom and dad very well. Great people." Hack produced an enormous handkerchief and blew his nose like a foghorn. "Sorry. Anyway, he killed'em. And what's more, he tried to kill you, too. I guess he wanted to make a clean job of it or somethin', or maybe he just liked killin' by that point. Who knows. But he couldn't do it. Ever wonder how you got that mark on yer forehead? That's no ordinary scar. That's what ya get when a powerful, evil curse touches you. It took out yer mom and dad in their own house, but it didn't kill you, Harry. That's why yer famous. Nobody lived after he decided to kill'em. Nobody…except you. And he killed some of the best of time, too. But you was only a baby, and you lived."  
  
Inside Harry's mind was pain. As Hack told his tale, Harry saw again a blinding green flash of light, more clearly than he ever recalled before. And he recalled something else too, a high pitched, cold and cruel laugh.  
  
Hack watched Harry with sad eyes. "I took ya from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders, and brought you to this sorry lot."  
  
"What a bunch of garbage" said Uncle Vern, who had obviously found his courage once again. "Now listen up, boy. I admit there's something weird about you, but it's nuthin' a good whoopin' won't fix. As for all this about yer parents, they were pretty weird, no denyin' that, but the world is better of without them if ya ask me. Reaped what they'd sewn if'n ya ask me, getting mixed up with that lot."  
  
Hack almost jumped up from the hay bale, drew out his pink umbrella, and pointed it at Uncle Vern like some kind of gun. "I'm warnin' ya Dursley, one more word…"  
  
Uncle Vern's courage managed to leave him once again, and he fell silent.  
  
Harry still had millions of questions. "But what happened to Ol'…sorry, to 'you know who'?"  
  
"Good question. He vanished. Same night as when he tried to kill you. Makes you even more famous. See, that's the big mystery. He was getting more and more powerful…why'd he go? Some say he died. Horseapples in my opinion. Not sure he was human enough to die. Some say he's still out there, biding his time, but I don't believe it. People who were on his side came back to ours. Some as if they'd come out of some kind of trance. Most of us think he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers, too weak to carry on. There's somethin' about you that finished him, Harry. Something he didn't count on. I dunno what, nobody does. But somethin' about you stumped him."  
  
Hack looked at Harry with warmth and respect. While Harry should have felt proud, he couldn't help but feel some terrible mistake had been made. A wizard? Him? How could that be possible? He'd spent his life being a whipping boy for Dirk, Unlce Vern and Aunt Daisy. If he was really a wizard, how come they weren't turned into toads anytime they tried to do anything to him? If he had once beaten the most powerful wizard in the world, how come Dirk could kick him around like an old can?  
  
"Hack" Harry said quietly, "I believe you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."  
  
To his surprise, Hack just laughed. "Not a wizard, hey? Never made anything happen when you was scared? Or angry?  
  
Harry stared at the fire. Now that he thought about it, there were some very odd occurrences whenever he was truly angry or scared. All those odd little occurrences he swore were not his fault all of a sudden made sense. Why Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy always blamed him for anything weird suddenly fell right into place.  
  
Harry smiled. "See?" said Hack. "Harry Potter not a wizard. Right. You'll be famous at Hogwarts."  
  
"He's not going to Hogwarts. He's going to public high school and he'll be grateful. I saw that letter, and the things he needs. Wands? Spellbooks? You can't be serious" said Uncle Vern, whose roller coaster courage was apparently back on the upswing.  
  
"Stop Lilly and Earl Potters' son from going to Hogwarts? You've gone loco. You cain't keep him outta Hogwarts, his name's been on th' list ever since he was born. He's off to the greatest school of wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know hisself. He'll be with kids of his own sort for a change, and under the tuteledge of the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had: Amos Dumbledore." said Hack.  
  
"I ain't gonna pay one red cent to send him to some school where some crackpot is gonna teach him cheap magic tricks" stated Uncle Vern forcefully, and more notably, courageously. But he had finally overstepped his bounds.  
  
Hack rose to his full height and faced Uncle Vern, approaching him very slowly, his right fist clenching on his pink umbrella. "Don't even let me think fer one moment I'm hearin' you say ANYTHING bad about Amos Dumbledore in MY presence."  
  
He brought the umbrella swishing down pointing at Dirk, there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a thunderclap, a loud squeal and Dirk was dancing around with his hands grasping his sizeable backside, howling in pain. When he turned his back to them, Harry saw a curly pigs tail protruding from a hole in his pants.  
  
Uncle Vern roared, grabbed Dirk and Aunt Daisy, and headed for the refuge of the back of the barn.  
  
  
  
  
  
NOTES:  
  
Not much for this one I'm afraid. I used the term 'car wreck' because that's what I grew up calling them, wasn't sure if that was a very clear term or not. 


	4. The Southern Fried Harry Potter, ch 4.

The Southern Fried Harry Potter  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
  
I'd ask that you please see my notes at the end of this chapter! Thanks!  
  
  
  
And now…on with our story:  
  
  
  
Harry had a fantastic dream. He dreamt a giant named Hack came to take him away, to reveal that he was a wizard and was being taken to a wizard's school. He was going to leave the Dursleys, and go to the same school his real parents had, and he was famous.  
  
He was waking up, he realized, but he didn't want to open his eyes. He did not want the dream to end. Through his eyelids he could tell the sun was up, but he was refusing to confirm it with his own eyes. He heard a rapping noise, that would be Aunt Daisy banging on his door trying to get him to wake up. The rapping continued unabated until finally Harry relented, "Alright, alright, I'm getting up" he said.  
  
Harry opened his eyes and got up, to find Hacks old army field jacket had been covering him. He remembered going to sleep last night and Hack had offered his jacket to use as a blanket. Harry looked over at the nearest hay bale, and saw Hack had almost flattened it from sleeping on it. Dirk had moved towards the back of the barn, no doubt along with Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy who wanted nothing more to do with Hack, and were more than ready to do the same with Harry.  
  
The rapping had stopped when he arose, and a barn owl swooped down and dropped a newspaper on Hack, then landed at Harry's feet. It went straight after Hacks jacket, tugging and pulling at it with its beak.  
  
"Hey now, don't do that, you'll tear it" admonished Harry. As he reached to rescue the jacket, the owl took a snap at his outstretched hand. Harry exclaimed in surprise. Hack stirred a little, so Harry said "Hey Hack, this owl is tearing up your jacket!"  
  
"He wants to be paid" muttered Hack.  
  
"What??" asked Harry, not believing what he heard.  
  
"He wants payment for delivering the paper. Reach in there get out 5 knuts and give them to him" said Hack, as he rolled over.  
  
"Five what?" asked Harry.  
  
Hack sighed, audibly and visibly. "Five of the little bronze things."  
  
Harry got into a pocket without interference from the owl, and found some bronze and silver things. He counted out five of the bronze ones and found the owl was holding his left leg out, and there was a pouch attached to it. Harry put the bronze things in the pouch and the owl took off.  
  
Hack had risen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and yawning. "We got a lot to do today Harry, got to get to the metroplex and get all yer stuff for Hogwarts."  
  
Inexplicably, this had escaped Harry's mind. He began to worry a bit, and finally said "Um, Hack? I don't have any money. And you heard Uncle Vern, he's not going to pay for any of that stuff…"  
  
Hack gave him a reassuring look. "Don't worry about that. We haven't even talked about yer inheritance yet. Did you think yer parents left ya with nuthin'?" Hack chuckled.  
  
"But, if their house was destroyed, how did they leave me anything?" asked Harry.  
  
"They didn't keep their gold all in their house, boy!" said Hack. "It's in a bank, just waiting for you. In fact our first stop is gonna be Gringo's Bank. That's the wizard bank."  
  
Hack dug out around his pockets. "Have a sausage. They're not too bad cold, and let's see if we can't get a bit of the birthday cake."  
  
"Wizards have banks?" asked Harry.  
  
"Just the one. Gringo's bank. Run by Goblins" said Hack.  
  
Harry stopped mid-sausage. "Goblins?!?" asked Harry.  
  
"Yep. So you'd be plumb loco to try and rob it, I tell ya that much. Never mess with Goblins, Harry. Gringo's is the safest place to keep anything, anything at all. Except maybe fer Hogwarts. As a matter of fact I have to go there anyway, on Hogwarts business." Hack drew himself and almost swelled with importance and pride. "Dumbledore usually asks me to do handle important Hogwarts business. Fetchin' you, going to Gringo's, stuff like that. You got all yer stuff? Ready to go?"  
  
They stepped outside of the barn. The rainstorm had long ago stopped, the sun was out, the fragrance of the field reached their nostril, and the ground was still a bit soft under their feet. The car the Hack had apparently arrived in was next to Uncle Vern's truck. Harry recognized it as an old El Camino, and he knew they weren't made anymore. The back was still full of water, though.  
  
"You drove here in that?" asked Harry.  
  
"Well, I, uh, I got here in that, but I didn't exactly drive" stammered Hack. "I flew. The field was too muddy. But now that I've fetched ya, I'm not supposed to use any magic. Well, I'm not supposed to use any magic at all anyway, especially not out in the muggle world. But I had permission to use some to find ya, get ya yer letters, stuff like that."  
  
They got in the car. Harry was still trying to imagine the car flying. Hack spoke up "Um, the field is still a bit muddy, we could be all day trying to get this heap out of here." Hack was giving Harry one of his sideways glances. "Seems a shame to waste all that time. If I were to, ah, help things along a little bit, would ya mind not sayin' anythin' at Hogwarts about it?"  
  
"Of course not!" said Harry. He was anxious to see more magic at work.  
  
They got far enough to get back on the road, and Hack drove to the nearest Greyhound Bus station. They road the mostly empty bus into downtown Dallas. Hack read his paper, "The Daily Prophet" en route. Harry had learned from Uncle Vern that most people prefer to be left alone while they do this, but Harry was just brimming with questions to ask.  
  
"Hmph" grumbled Hack, "Department of Magic screwing things up as usual."  
  
"There's a Department of Magic?" asked Harry.  
  
"Sure is" said Hack.  
  
"What do they do?" asked Harry  
  
"Well, mostly they try to keep our entire existence from the Muggles" said Hack. "They wanted Dumbledore to their Secretary, but of course he wasn't going to leave Hogwarts. So Fudge got the job. Bugs Dumbledore everyday with owls pestering him with questions."  
  
"Why don't they want to be known?" asked Harry  
  
"Why?!?" Hack laughed. "Because then everybody'd be wantin' magical solutions to their everyday problems. Nah, best we remain a secret.  
  
Before long they pulled into the bus terminal smack in downtown Dallas and made their way outside. Hack drew a lot of attention to himself just because he was so big.  
  
"Why would someone be 'loco' to try and rob Gringo's?" asked Harry  
  
"Oh, there's a number of reasons" said Hack. "Spells, wards, tunnels…Gringo's vault goes miles underneath, into the earth…there's also supposed to be dragons guarding the place, or so they say. Man, I always wanted a dragon."  
  
"You'd want one?" asked Harry, incredulously.  
  
"Ever since I was kid I wanted one. Ah, here we go" said Hack, who had managed to flag down a trolling taxi. "Corner of Elm and Crowdus, if ya please" he told the driver. Hack looked at Harry and said "Smack in the middle of Deep Ellum" and winked.  
  
A short drive west on Main and they were there. Harry had to help Hack pay the driver, as Hack just couldn't figure out 'muggle money' very easily. When all was settled up, Harry found himself in a very colorful street.  
  
"Still got yer letter Harry?" Hack asked.  
  
Harry produced the parchment envelope. "Good" said Hack. "Inside is a list of everything we're gonna need."  
  
Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed before, and read the list. It included items such as robes, hats, gloves, cloaks, specific books, a wand, a cauldron, a set of phials, telescope, and a set of scales. It also mentioned students could bring an animal off of a very short list: either a cat, an owl, or a toad. There was also a reminder that first year students were not allowed their own broomsticks.  
  
"Can we get all this stuff in Dallas?" asked Harry.  
  
"Ya can if ya know where to get it" replied Hack.  
  
Harry had never been to a big city before. Although Hack seemed to know where he wanted to be, he obviously wasn't used to getting there by 'conventional' means. Just fitting him into the back seat of the taxi cab was an incredible display of physics. "I don't know how muggles manage without magic" said Hack, as they started to walk down the street. Hack was so big, what other foot traffic they ran across made plenty of room for him, and all Harry had to do was follow along. They passed book stores, art galleries, hair salons, tatoo parlors, restaurants and night clubs. None of these places looked like where you'd go to buy a magic wand. This was a somewhat ordinary street that was part of the city's nightlife. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buries miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold broomsticks to ride, spellbooks (real ones) and spell components? Could this all be just one big joke the Dursleys had come up with? Harry dismissed that idea quickly, knowing the Dursleys didn't have much of a sense of humor, and what they did have seemed mostly limited to people hitting each other in amusing ways.  
  
"Here we are" said Hack, coming to a halt in front of a place that seemed to be a bit 'off the beaten track.' "The Cracked Kettle"…it's a famous place Harry."  
  
It was tiny, grubby looking place that Harry thought must be what people often described as a 'dive.' If Hack hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have even noticed the place. What few people walked by certainly seemed to give it no notice whatsoever. Their glances seemed to skip from the bookstore on one side to the music store on the other. Harry got the distinct impression that he and Hack were the only ones who could see it.  
  
Before Harry could say anything, Hack had steered him inside.  
  
It took a few moments for Harry's eyes to adjust to the dark. He could make out dim lamps that were probably perched on tables throughout the place, and there was a bar that was the best lit spot in the place, and it was still somewhat dark.  
  
As they moved further into the place, Harry began to see better, and noticed that just about everybody who turned to look at them seemed to recognize Hack. The man behind the bar looked up at them, grabbed a glass and said "Th' usual, Hack?"  
  
"Cain't, Tom, I'm workin'…" said Hack. "I'm on Hogwarts bizness today."  
  
The man behind the bar stopped at that, looked at Harry again, and said "You mean…. Oh my. Oh my… welcome to The Kettle, Harry. Bless my stars I never thought this day would come!"  
  
Others in the establishment were taking notice now, everyone at the bar had turned to look at Harry, and from what he could tell most of the people at tables and booths were doing the same. Quickly, people left their seats, came up to him and introduced themselves. They all seemed very excited to meet Harry, seemed to know a lot about him. One older woman came around a few times to shake his hand and say howdy.  
  
"Harry" interrupted Hack, "I'd like you t' meet Perfessor Quirrel, he'll be one of yer instructors at Hogwarts."  
  
"P-p-p-p-pleased to m-m-m-make your acquaintance, P-p-p-p-otter. I teach 'Defense Against the D-d-dark Arts'…not that you'll have m-much u-use for my class, eh?!?" he quipped, nervously.  
  
But the rest of the crowd wasn't going to let the venerable Professor to have much time with Harry, and they all kept introducing themselves, clapping him on the back, and everyone seemed very pleased to meet him.  
  
Before too long, Hack cleared his throat loudly and announced "Well, can't hang around here all day, we got stuff to do!" and Hack led Harry towards the back of the club, and out a back door. There, they were in a small courtyard surrounded by a brick wall. Hack was staring at the wall intently. "I always think I can remember which brick it is, but I end up always having to count." Hack apparently found the brick he liked, tapped it three times with his pink umbrella, and the wall started to move out of the way to reveal a bustling row of shops.  
  
"Welcome to Diagon Alley."  
  
"Diagon Alley?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't it be called Dallas Alley?"  
  
"Nope, that's a muggle place over in the West End. This is where we're going to get all your school supplies. But first, we need to visit Gringo's. Let's go."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Notes:  
  
My Connundrum. Until now I have not had to be specific about where exactly all this was taking place. But now, I have to. We've reached the point in the story where Hack (Hagrid) has to take Harry to a city where Diagon Alley (or whatever southern version I might come up with) is located.  
  
Instead of making up something completely fictitious, which wouldn't be hard by combining tidbits from different cities I've visited, would rather defeat the purpose of the story line I've started. So I've decided it needs to be a real city.  
  
With that in mind, it's best I write about something I know. So far as 'the south' is concerned I've visited Atlanta, Tampa, Memphis, New Orleans, Shreveport, Austin, San Antonio, Houston. New Orleans might seem the first, best choice given its history with Voodoo, but for that same reason I thought that would just not work.  
  
And while I know things about those other cities, I don't know as much about them as I do about the Dallas/Fort Worth area, so that's where they're going. I know the cities well enough not to do a disservice to either of them, Texas can still be counted as 'the south' and even afford me the luxury of tossing in some of 'the west' elements as well, just for spice!  
  
Also, when I made my fortunate mistype and came up with "Gringo's Bank" the immediate idea struck me to make all the Goblins speak with a Mexican accent. Would have been fun, but, upon a moment's reflection it just doesn't work. See, the term 'Gringo' is what the Mexicans use to describe your basic non-Spanish speaking caucasian. They may use it in a broader reference but that one seems to be most popular. Being so, why would any enterprise run created and run by a group of Mexicans have 'gringo' in their name at all? So I'm gonna give'em Boston accents instead! (remember, the only difference between a Yankee and a Damned Yankee is Damned Yankees are the ones who have stayed here…)  
  
And I have apparently been lacking some kind of disclaimer: this is a fanciful adaptation of an existing work (the Harry Potter series) copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. I have not received permission from the author nor publisher for this sort of work, nor have I sought any. This is not published for any kind of profit, only for fun and enjoyment.  
  
Speaking of 'the south'…So far as my depiction of those from 'the south' you can read the reviews for yourself. Suffice it to say, not everybody talks like what I've depicted. We're not all a bunch of Jeff Foxworthy's and Slim Pickens'. But, writing about characters without an exaggerated Southern flavor just wouldn't be as much fun, would it? Besides, by the time we get little Harry to Hogwarts he'll have a lot of different influences to experience, so just hold yer horses!  
  
As always, good or bad I welcome all constructive input. If you have any questions about anything, or even suggestions, I'd be happy to hear from you.  
  
Definitions:  
  
"Howdy" – a well known greeting from the South, it comes from "How do you do" as a greeting. You'll also hear 'howdy-do' sometimes but everyone who has ever seen any kind of western knows 'howdy!'  
  
El Camino – an automobile built by Cheverolet from the later 50's into the mid 80's, Half-car, half pickup truck, and not much of either! Picture a car, from the front end to just behind the drivers seat, and a pickup truck style 'bed' behind it, except it was low like a car. There were other versions, both by GM and Ford, but since the mid-80's they have not been in production.  
  
Plumb loco – really stupid  
  
Fetchin' – well, 'fetching' actually, to go and get something. 


	5. The Southern Fried Harry Potter, Ch. 5

The Southern Fried Harry Potter  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Notes are at the bottom of the chapter. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
All of Harry's senses were assaulted at once. Diagon Alley was…overwhelming. There were sights, smells, and sounds all clamoring for attention that Harry wished he had more heads so he could take it all in!  
  
There were shops. Rows and rows of shops. And of course, shoppers. For Harry they were just as interesting as the shops they shopped at. There where places to buy books, ingredients, clothes, animals, and all manner of unidentifiable things.  
  
"We'd better start with Gringo's" said Hack. "Cain't buy much without money, can ya?"  
  
Gringo's Bank wasn't hard to spot. It was an impressive building amidst what might be described as other modest locations…and in some cases that was being very polite. Harry thought some of these places must be quite old.  
  
As they approached Gringo's, they were greeted by a uniformed doorman. Harry had seen them portrayed in old movies, but that's something you think used to exist ages ago but not anymore. The doorman was very short, had very odd features, and as they approach, a very menacing grin.  
  
"Yup" said Hack, "that's a goblin."  
  
They entered, and the lobby was bustling with more activity than the street. It was not very loud, however. Even though one would have thought it would be, since the structure seemed to be built largely out of granite. They approached a teller behind an available window.  
  
"Mr. Harry Potter is here to make a withdrawal" said Hack.  
  
The goblin behind the counter looked up from its ledger, eyed the two of them deliberately, then asked "and does Mr. Potter have his key?" It was asked in a tone that clearly indicated it didn't think there was going to be a positive answer.  
  
"Oh, uh, hang on a sec…" said Hack, as he started rumaging through his multitude of pockets. He fished out all manner of items you don't normally expect anybody to carry unless they're going camping. The look of disgust on the tellers features were unmistakable.  
  
"Aha! Here 'tis!" said Hack, triumphantly, and handed it to the teller. As the teller inspected the key Hack began to put all his other articles back into various pockets.  
  
"Well, all seems to be in ahdah" said the goblin.  
  
"I also have this" at which Hack produced an envelope that looked similar to the ones Harry had received so many of. The goblin opened it, read it, leveled a very serious gaze at Hack and simply said "Very well. I shall have an assistant help you. Griphook!"  
  
Another goblin, apparently named Griphook, showed up and led them to the vault area. They boarded a cart which seemed to start moving of it's own volition. Harry tried to watch Griphook steer it, but it didn't look as if Griphook was doing any such thing other than riding along just as Hack and Harry were.  
  
Harry tried to keep track of directions: left, right, right, right again…but the cart had picked up enough speed and made so many quick turns that Harry quickly lost track. Hack looked positively naseous, so Harry thought he'd try to take his mind off of things.  
  
"I can never remember which is a stalagtite and which is a stalagmite" he said to Hack.  
  
Hack seemed to regard Harry as if he was a bit crazy, and said "Stalagmite's got an 'M' in it! Don't talk to me while we're moving!!" So Harry decided it was probably best to leave him alone.  
  
They arrived at a series of numbered doors and the cart stopped. Griphook hopped out, followed by Harry and a somewhat pale Hack. "Key please" said Griphook, and Hack handed over the small key. Griphook approached the door, inserted the key into a particular keyhole among many, and opened the door.  
  
The sight that greeted Harry was nothing he expected. There were piles upon piles of coins; gold, silver, and bronze. Harry was speechless. Hack managed a chuckle but still looked a bit pale. "See? Told ya! Yer parents wouldn't leave ya with nuthin'.." Hack then produced a pouch and took a few handfuls of coins and filled it.  
  
"There. That oughta last ya the term." Hack turned to Griphook "Vault 713 please now, and could we go a bit slower this time?" he asked.  
  
"One speed only" said Griphook without emotion.  
  
"Right.." said Hack, and they all boarded the cart and set off again.  
  
At least this trip was shorter. When the cart stopped and everybody got out, Griphook turned to them and said rather convincingly "Stand back!" Griphook then approached the door, moved some levers, turned some knobs, and probably said a few words presumed Harry, until the door opened. "If anyone but a Gringo's goblin tried that, they'd be trapped inside the vault" Griphook said smugly.  
  
Harry looked at Griphook in surprise and asked "How often do you come down to check to see if anyone is in here?"  
  
"Oh, about once every ten ye-ahs aw so" said Griphook. Smugness confirmed.  
  
The door was pulled open, and based upon what Harry saw in his parents vault, rather his vault now he guessed, he expected something even grander to greet his eyes. But no…the vault looked barren save for a small, wrapped parcel on a stool. Hack reached inside and tucked into an interior pocket. He looked at Harry and said "Best you don't mention this to anyone, Harry." Hack faced Griphook and said "Let's go."  
  
They exited the bank and started shopping, filling out the items on Harry's list. He had books and equipment he had no idea what they would be for, but was excited to have them all the same.  
  
They approached Madam Malkin's robe shop, and Hack stopped. "Harry, do you mind if I go for a little pick-me-up while you're in here? Those Gringo's carts give me the willies." Harry thought Hack still looked a bit pale, and said "Sure."  
  
Harry went inside and was greeted by a gentle, older woman dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dear?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Just fitting another young gentleman now. Go ahead and try this on and I'll be with you in a moment" she said.  
  
There was a pale, blond haired, pointy-faced boy getting the finishing touches put on his robes. Harry stood in front of the mirror next to him. Another store employee started pinning the robe where it needed to be taken up.  
  
"Hullo" said the boy. "Hogwarts too?"  
  
"Yes" said Harry, enthusiastically.  
  
"My father's next door buying my books and mother is up the street looking at wands" said the boy. He had a bored, slow drawl about him. "Then I'm gonna drag them off to look at racing brooms. I can't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll wheedle father into getting me one and then smuggle it in somehow."  
  
Harry was strongly reminded of Dirk with this boy.  
  
"Have you got your own broom?" asked the boy.  
  
"No" said Harry.  
  
"Play Quidditch?" continued the boy.  
  
"No" said Harry again, wishing he knew just what in the heck the boy was talking about now.  
  
"I do" the boy emphasized. "Father says it'll be a shame if I don't get to play for my house, and I have to agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"  
  
"No" said Harry, getting more and more frustrated by the minute.  
  
"Well, no one really knows what house they'll be in until they get there, do they? But I just KNOW I'll be in Slytherin. All my family have been. Can you imagine being stuck in Hufflepuff? I think I'd leave…" the boy droned on. "Wouldn't you?"  
  
"Mmm" replied Harry, wishing he could say something a tad more interesting.  
  
"Hey, look at that man in the window…" said the boy with some surprise suddenly, nodding towards the front window.  
  
Hack was standing there with the oddest grin, holding two ice creams to show why he couldn't come in.  
  
"That's Hack" said Harry, glad to be able to finally contribute something. "He works at Hogwarts."  
  
"Oh" said the boy, very uninterested. "I've heard of him. He's some sort of…servant, isn't he?" said the boy with a smugly superior tone.  
  
"He's the gamekeeper" said Harry, and he was liking the boy less and less.  
  
"Exactly. I've heard he's a sort of savage or something. He lives in a hut on school grounds, and every now and then he gets drunk and tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to something."  
  
"I think he's brilliant" said Harry cooly.  
  
"Do you?" asked the boy incredulously. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"  
  
"They're dead" quipped Harry. He didn't exactly feel like sharing with this boy at the moment.  
  
"Oh, sorry" said the boy, not sounding sorry in the least bit. "But they were…OUR kind, weren't they?"  
  
"They were wizards if that's what you mean" replied Harry.  
  
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" continued the boy. "I mean its just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they receive their letter. Imagine! I think they should keep it in the old, established families. Oh, what's your surname by the way?"  
  
But before Harry could say anything, Madam Malkin announced "That's you done, dear." Harry, not sorry for the interruption at all, hopped down. "Well, I see you at Hogwarts I s'pose" drawled the boy.  
  
Harry was rather quiet while he ate the ice cream that Hack had brought for him. It was good…chocolate with raspberry topped with chopped nuts.  
  
"What's up?" asked Hack.  
  
"Oh, nothing" replied Harry. They stopped to buy a few more incidental supplies, and Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed colors as you wrote.  
  
When they left that shop, Harry piped up and asked "Hack, what's Quidditch?"  
  
"Good grief Harry, I keep forgettin' how much you don't know" said Hack.  
  
"Well don't make me feel worse about it…" said Harry gloomily. Harry told him about the boy in Madam Malkins' shop.  
  
"And he said people from muggle families shouldn't be allowed in" exclaimed Harry.  
  
"Yer not from a muggle family. If he'd known who you were, he's grown up known' yer name if his parents really are wizardin' folks. You saw'em in the Cracked Kettle. Anyway, what does he know? Some of the best I've ever seen came from a long line of muggles. Look at yer mom and what she had fer a sister!"  
  
"So then what is Quidditch?" inquired Harry.  
  
"Well that's our game! Wizards sport. It's like…well it's much like football in the muggle world. Everyone follows Quidditch. It's played up in the air on broomsticks, there's four balls, and…er…well it's sort of hard to explain the rules" said Hack.  
  
"Well what's a Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" asked Harry.  
  
"Those are school houses. There's four of 'em. Everyone says Hufflepuffs are a bunch of slugs, but…"  
  
"I'll bet I'm in Hufflepuff" interrupted Harry gloomily.  
  
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin" said Hack, in a very serious and dark tone. "There hasn't been a single wizard who went bad that wasn't from Slytherin. You-know-who was one."  
  
"Old M…sorry, I mean you-know-who was at Hogwarts?" Harry was shocked.  
  
"Years and years ago, yes" confirmed Hack. He turned his attention back to Harry's list of supplies. "Just yer wand left. Oh yeah, and I still ain't got you a birthday present yet."  
  
Harry blushed. "You don't have to you know" he stammered.  
  
"I know I don't have to" Hack chuckled. "Tell ya what, I'll git yer animal. Not a toad, they went out of style years ago and you'd be laughed at. And I can't stand cats, they make me sneeze. I know! I'll git you an owl. They're right handy, deliverin' yer mail and everything!"  
  
Twenty minutes later they were exiting Eyelops Owl Emporium. Harry now carried a large cage, which held a beautiful snow owl, fast asleep with her head tucked under her wing. Harry couldn't stop stammering his thanks to Hack, in fact he thought he sounded as bad as Professor Quirrel.  
  
"Don't mention it" Hack said gruffly. "Don't guess you've had many presents from them Dursleys, have ya? Just Olivanders left now. The only place for wands, Olivanders, and you've gotta have the best wand."  
  
A magic wand. This is what Harry had really been looking forward to. The shop was quite small and shabby, with peeling paint and dirty windows, and a sign that said "Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC" A single wand lay upon a faded purple cushion in the window. A bell tinkled as they entered.  
  
It was a tiny shop, save for a single spindly chair which Hack sat on to wait. Harry felt as if they had entered a rather strict library. He swallowed a large number of new questions that had sprang to life in his mind, and looked at all the narrow boxes lining the shelves behind the counter. The hairs on the back of his neck seemed to prickle. The dusty silence seemed to ripple with some kind of magic, Harry thought.  
  
"Good afternoon" came a voice softly, catching Harry by surprise. Harry jumped. Apparently so did Hack, as he heard a tremendous creaking sound and Hack quickly got off the spindly chair.  
  
A very old man stood in front of them, his grey eyes shining like pale moons behind his spectacles.  
  
"Hullo" said Harry, awkwardly.  
  
"Ah yes, yes…" said the man quietly. "Yes, I thought I would be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question so much as a statement of fact. "You have your mothers eyes. Why it seems only yesterday she was in here buying her first wand. 10 ¼ inches long, swishy, made of Willow. Nice wand for charm work."  
  
Mr. Olivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished the old man would just blink. Those eyes were creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahagony wand. 11 inches, pliable, a little more power, more suitable for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it, but it's really the wand that favors the wizard, isn't it?"  
  
The question was obviously rhetorical.  
  
Mr Olivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see his reflection in those misty eyes.  
  
"And that's where…" Mr Olivander touched the lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I am sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it" he said softly. "13 ½ inches, yes, powerful wand. Very powerful. And in the wrong hands…whoa…well, if I had but known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" he shook his head, and then to Harry's relief, he spotted Hack.  
  
"Remus! Remus Hackforth III! How nice to see you again! Er, ah, oak, 16 inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?" asked Mr. Olivander.  
  
Hack looked uncomfortable. "It…it was sir, yes."  
  
"Good wand that. But I suppose it was snapped in half when you were expelled, eh?" said Mr. Olivander, suddenly very stern.  
  
"Er..yeah, they did. Yes" muttered Hack, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces though" said Hack, brightening a little.  
  
"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Olivander sharply.  
  
"Oh, no sir" replied Hack quickly. Harry noticed Hack gripped his pink umbrella very tightly when he spoke.  
  
"Hmm…" said Mr. Olivander, giving Hack a very piercing gaze. "Well now, Mr. Potter, let me see…" Mr. Olivander produced a long tape measure with silver markings out of a pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"  
  
"Er, well, I'm right handed" said Harry.  
  
"Hold out your arm. That's it" said Mr. Olivander. He measured Harry from shoulder to fingertip, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armipit, and around his head. "Every Olivander wand has a core of a powerful magic substance. We use Unicorn hair, Phoenix tailfeathers, and heartstrings of Dragons. No two Olivander wands are the same. Just as no two Unicorns, Dragons, or Phoenix's are the same. And of course, you'll never get such good results using another wizards' wand."  
  
Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure was measuring Harry all on it's own, that Mr. Olivander was flitting around the shelves going through boxes. "That'll do" said Mr. Olivander, and the tape measure fell to the floor.  
  
"Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and Dragon Heartstring, 9 inches, nice and flexible. Take it and give it a wave."  
  
Harry took the wand, and feeling foolish, started to wave it. Mr. Olivander snatched it back quickly. "Maple and Phoenix feather, 7 inches, try…"  
  
It went this way for awhile, Harry barely trying a wand before it was snatched back by Mr. Olivander and he was given something different to try. Harry had no idea what Mr. Olivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was growing higher and higher, but the more wands Mr. Olivander pulled off the shelves, the happier he seemed to be.  
  
"Tricky customer eh?" he chuckled to himself. "Not to worry, we'll find a wand for you in here somehwere. I wonder…yes, why not. Unusual combination: Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches, nice and supple."  
  
Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head and brought it swishing down through the dusty air, and a stream of red and gold sparks flew from the wand like a roman candle!  
  
Hack whooped and clapped! Mr. Olivander said "Bravo! Oh yes indeed! Very good! Well, how curious, how very curious." He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering 'curious' to himself.  
  
"Sorry" said Harry. "What's curious?"  
  
Mr. Olivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single one. It so happens the Phoenix whose tailfeather is in your wand, gave another. Just…one…other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother gave you that scar."  
  
Harry swallowed hard.  
  
"Yes, 13 ½ inches. Yes. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. And I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, he-who-must-not-be-named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."  
  
Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Olivander very much. He paid for his wand, and Mr. Olivander bowed them from his shop.  
  
The late afteroon sun beat down upon them as they made their way back through Diagon Alley, back to the Cracked Kettle now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked back. He didn't even notice how much people were gawking at him while they road the DART rail back to the station, laden as they were with odd-shaped packages and the huge cage with a sleeping owl in it.  
  
Harry really didn't realize where they were until Hack tapped him on the shoulder at the station. "Got time for a quick bite before the bus leaves." They got a couple of hamburgers and sat down. Harry looked around, and it seemed that everything looked so strange to him.  
  
"You alright Harry? Yer very quiet" said Hack. Harry wasn't sure he could put it into words. He'd just had the best birthday of his life, and yet, he could not come up with the words to describe how he felt.  
  
"Everyone thinks I'm special" Harry said finally. "All those people in the pub, in the shops, but I don't anything about magic at all. How can they expect 'great things' from me? I'm famous and I don't even know why.  
  
Hack leant across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyes, he wore a kind smile. "Don't worry Harry, you'll learn soon enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll do just fine! Just be yourself. I know it's hard, you've been singled out and that's never easy, but you'll have a great time at Hogwarts. I did. Still do as a matter of fact.  
  
Hack helped him onto the bus that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope. "Your ticket fer Hogwarts. September 1st, Kings Station. It's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, just send me yer owl. She'll know where to find me. See you soon, Harry."  
  
  
  
Notes:  
  
My apologies for the delay getting this chapter out. I do really work for a living, after all! Toss in a vacation and my sisters impending wedding and well, you get the idea.  
  
The Goblins – well as I said previously I decided to give them all Bostonian accents. Except there wasn't as much dialogue with them as I had once thought there would be. But trying to write their weird accent even in this little bit of dialogue was a challenge. To help you through it, let me give you an example:  
  
"Park the car or I'll have a heart attack" in a Bostonian accent would come out something like "Pahk the cah er I'll have a haaaht attack." Hopefull you get the idea! And I wanted to make them carpetbaggers from the north, and New Yorkers were just too easy.  
  
Otherwise I don't think this chapter has much for me to comment on. Oh, other than the line "The question was obviously rhetorical" Anytime I hear "rhetorical" I can't help but think of a Simpson's episode where Homer's mom surfaces, she and Lisa are playing Granola-crunching Hippie folk songs ("How many paths must a man walk down?" by Bob Dylan.) Homer pipes up and says "Six!" Lisa tells him "Dad, it's a rhetorical question." To which Homer replies "Rhetorical eh?….Seven!"  
  
That just kills me!  
  
As always, I appreciate any constructive criticism good or bad. I just hope you enjoy! I'll try to get the next chapter out a bit quicker!  
  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based upon the characters and settings copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Books. No permission has been granted nor asked for regard this amphigory. 


	6. The Southern Fried Harry Potter, Ch. 6

The Southern Fried Harry Potter Chapter 6  
  
Notes are at the bottom of the chapter. Enjoy!  
  
Back at 'Dursley Manor' the winds of change were strong. Dirk refused to be in the same room as Harry, and had trouble enough whenever Harry was in the trailer at all. Uncle Vern and Aunt Daisy did their best to just avoid him.  
  
Harry spent a lot of time to himself in his RV. Probably just as well too since his owl, whom he had named Hetty, kept coming home with dead mice. Harry reckoned that Aunt Daisy wouldn't think very much of that.  
  
When September 1st was only a couple of days away, Harry approached Uncle Vern. In the process he managed to send Dirk scurrying out of the living room by mere presence. "Uncle Vern" started Harry, "I need to be at the Kings Station on the 1st. Could you give me a ride?"  
  
Uncle Vern grunted, which Harry took as a yes.  
  
"Gotta to be in town on the 1st anyway, otherwise you'd be high and dry" Uncle Vern muttered.  
  
"Why are you going to be in town?" asked Harry, trying to be conversational.  
  
Uncle Vern gave Harry a very uncertain glance, and said "Gotta git that pigtail removed, and I don't wanna take him to nobody we know."  
  
"Oh, I see" said Harry, not sure what else to say.  
  
"What the hell you taking a bus for anyway? Yer off to become a wizard ain'tchya? What? They run out of magic carpets for all y'all? Only have short broomsticks to haul kids to school?" He said that last part with a very nervous chuckle. "Where is this..school..anyway?"  
  
Harry had never thought to ask. "I don't know" he blurted out before he could think. Uncle Vern only spasmed harder with laughter. "Oh, that's good. Going off to catch a bus to take you to a train going somewhere you have no idea where. I swear, none of y'all are firing on all eight. I don't think ya got eight to begin with, probably only four, and still not hitting on all of'em!" He had worked himself up into one of his laughing fits, and all signs of nervousness had left him at this point.  
  
Harry decided he wasn't going to miss this one little bit.  
  
Uncle Vern turned back to whatever it was he was engrossed in, signaling the end of their little conversation.  
  
August 31st found Harry ready to leave. He had already packed. He wasn't taking much other than the new things he and Hack had picked up at Diagon Alley. He tossed in a few clothes and his favorite tennis shoes, he'd be wearing his favorite jeans and boots and figured he would change into his robes on the train.  
  
Harry was up by 5am. He even did his chores just to pass the time. Soon Uncle Vern, Aunt Daisy, and Dirk all emerged from 'Dursley Manor' and got in the truck. Aunt Daisy managed to talk Dirk into riding in the back seat with Harry, but Dirk put as much space as possible between them. Harry resigned himself to having a very quiet ride into town.  
  
When they arrived in town, Uncle Vern's first stop was the bus station. Harry presumed they were glad to be rid of him, and he was probably right. Uncle Vern even unloaded Harry's old but very large suitcase, held together by an old belt run around the outside. But that's as much help as Harry was going to get. Uncle Vern half set it down, half let gravity take over, tossed Harry a glance that was somewhere between 'glad you're gone' and 'get the hell out', got back in his truck and they were gone. Dirk treated him to faces and gestures as they pulled away.  
  
"Good riddance" thought Harry.  
  
The bus ride was uneventful, although the cage and Hettie did draw a lot of stares. Wasn't often anybody in that area ever saw someone with an owl in a cage. But, like most folks in the area, they just glanced for a few minutes, and returned to minding their own business.  
  
When the bus arrived at the big station in downtown Dallas, Harry already knew the way to the Union Station to catch the train. He drug his luggage along until he was inside the station, then dug out his ticket. It was then that he realized, to his horror, he didn't think he was in the right place. His ticket clearly said "Hogwarts Express" on it, and listed the track number as 9 ¾. Harry looked around and did not see any signs pointing to any tracks with numbers that included fractions.  
  
Harry swallowed hard. Had Hack forgotten to tell him something? Was he in the wrong station? Hard to believe that since Dallas only has one station. He looked everywhere for a sign saying "9 ¾" but failed to find it.  
  
He didn't want to approach one of the stewards, both for fear of making a fool of himself and possible getting into some sort of trouble. He wondered if this was going to be similar to the entry to Diagon Alley from behind the Cracked Kettle, but he had absolutely no idea where to start.  
  
It was pure serendipity that he caught sight of a smallish group of people pushing luggage carts, one with what appeared to be a similar sized cage as what he had. Harry decided to follow them to see where they went. The group of people, all red haired, stopped in one of the corridors and seemed to huddle for just a moment. There was a large-ish, portly woman, an older boy, a pair of twins, a younger boy about Harry's age, and a little girl. Harry looked around nervously, afraid he was being too conspicuous. When he looked back at the group, he noticed the cage was gone, and so was the oldest boy!  
  
Harry was certain he had not turned away for that long. If the older boy had come his way he'd have surely seen him, and if he had gone the other way he should still be in sight.  
  
During his wonderment he saw one of the twins take a luggage cart (which did not seem to have a big cage) and start walking down the hall. Harry tried to keep an eye on him, but thanks to a handful of other passengers the boy simply disappeared! Harry had no idea where he had gone off to.  
  
Harry decided to approach the group for help. They were obviously talking amongst themselves and he didn't wish to intrude when the other twin took off in the same direction. Again Harry tried to watch him, but it seemed as if he had been headed towards one of the pillars one moment, then next he was simply not there.  
  
"Um, s'cuse me." Harry stammered. The woman turned and greeted him with a friendly smile. "Excuse me, I was wondering if, well."  
  
"You want to know how to get to track 9 ¾?" she asked, her voice that buttery-smooth southern belle type.  
  
"Yes" Harry said, almost hurriedly, with a sigh of relief.  
  
The woman chuckled politely. "Not to worry, it's Ron's first year as well" obviously referring to the young boy remaining. "All you need to do, is walk towards that pillar, between tracks 9 and 10, from the south side. Best to do it at a good clip if yer nervous."  
  
Harry looked at where she had indicated. His first thoughts were 'that's it?' but then he wondered if he needed to do anything else. He supposed not, thanked the woman, and headed for the pillar. He walked briskly, trying to put her advice into action. Fortunately as he approached, he was distracted by the public address system blaring without warning. He looked up towards where the sound was coming from and before he knew it he was in darkness. A few more steps, and he emerged into the Texas sun on a concrete landing, complete with a sign that said "9 ¾" and a magnificent red steam locomotive.  
  
He was certain he was where he needed to be now. He saw all sorts of people with animal cages and baggage carts full of luggage. Owls and cats eyed each other suspiciously, the owls hooting at one another and the cats meowing their discontent. There was a mixture of kids here, obviously everywhere from first years to graduate students Harry figured. And nobody was in robes, all where wearing regular 'street clothes.' Harry soon learned that wasn't entirely true. He did see the older red-haired boy walking up and down the landing, pointing some people in certain directions, and when he got close enough to the twins taking a fair amount of chiding before he returned to one of the lead cars of the train.  
  
Harry also noticed a round faced boy who seemed to be looking for something he must have dropped. "Granny" he heard the boy say, "I've lost him again." The older woman with high just gave a practiced sigh and said "Oh Neville." Harry got the distinct impression this must happen a lot with the boy.  
  
He noticed one boy with very odd hair, Harry think he had seen someone on television with that hairstyle once and heard it called 'dreadlocks', had a box with air holes in it and was getting many reactions from the small crowd that had gathered around him.  
  
Harry also noticed everybody was putting their luggage into the cars themselves. He wheeled his cart towards an open spot near the end of the train, and started taking things off of his baggage cart. Harry was almost conspicuously alone, handling his luggage, when the twins appeared.  
  
"Li'l help?" they offered, not really asking so much as just helping without a reply.  
  
With a small struggle they got Harry's things onto the train. "Thanks!" said Harry, who wiped his brow after the effort. It was quite warm this time of year, after all.  
  
It was then that Harry noticed the twins were regarding Harry with puzzled looks. Harry stopped what he was doing and looked back at them, probably just as puzzled. "What?" Harry asked innocently.  
  
"Whuzzat?" one of the twins inquired, pointing at Harry's forehead. "It's you, ain't it?" said one of them. "He is" said the other "ain't you?"  
  
"What?" said Harry.  
  
"You're Harry Potter" they said simultaneously, but quietly.  
  
"Oh" Harry said, relieved. "Yes, I'm him. Er, that's me, yes."  
  
The twins gawked at him. Harry felt uncomfortable, and found his rescue in the familiar voice of the twins' mother. "Fred? George? Come and help Ron with his stuff."  
  
"Coming Ma!" they said. With a last look at Harry, they scurried off to help their younger brother. Harry took a seat on the train by a window. He was mostly hidden from the red haired family but could hear everything they said.  
  
Their mother had just produced a handkerchief and proceeded to make an attempt and cleaning something off of the younger boy's face. "Ron, you got somethin' on yer nose." The youngest boy tried valiantly to dodge his mom's handkerchief with only limited success. "Mommm" the boy complained, "lay off!"  
  
"Aw.has the baby carrot gone something on his nose?" one of twins chided.  
  
"Shut up!" replied the boy.  
  
"Where's Percy?" asked the mother.  
  
"Here he comes" answered one of the twins in a very annoyed tone.  
  
The oldest boy arrived, still in his robes, and Harry noticed a very shiny silver badge on his chest, like a cock-sure sheriff out of a western, except Harry noticed it featured the letter P prominently.  
  
"I cain't dawdle 'round here Mom, all the Prefects 'r up front in the first two compartments" said the older boy.  
  
"Oh" piped one of the twins, "are you a Prefect Percy?" he asked, spraying the older boy with spittle as he pronounced 'prefect.' "You shoulda said somethin', we had no ah-dee-ah!"  
  
"Hold yer horses" said the other twin, "I seem to recall him sayin' something about it. Maybe once."  
  
".or twice" said the other twin.  
  
"a minute. All summer!" they both said.  
  
"Oh shut yer traps, both of ya" said Percy The Prefect, who turned and headed towards the front of the train.  
  
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" asked one of the twins.  
  
"B'cause he's a Prefect, that's why" answered the mom fondly, leaving no room for discussion.  
  
"Alright dears. Have a good semester. Send an owl when you get there. And this year, you two" she pointed almost threateningly at the twins "behave yourselves. I don't want to get any more owls from the principal saying you've blown up a toilet, or."  
  
"Blown up a toilet?" cried one of the twins. "We've never done no such thang! But it's a great idea, thanks Mom!"  
  
"Now y'all hush" the mom said sternly. "And look after Ron" she said gently.  
  
"Don't worry, the baby carrot will be safe with us" answered one of the twins.  
  
"Shut uuuuup" muttered Ron.  
  
Harry noticed they called him the 'baby carrot' even though Ron was almost as tall as they were, and his nose was still pink from his mother's ministrations to his hygiene.  
  
"Hey mom, guess what? Guess who we met on the train?" one of the twins asked, in a conspiratorial tone.  
  
Harry leaned back and out of sight quickly.  
  
"You know that dark haired boy who was near us in the station? Ya know who that was?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Harry Potter" the twin whispered, almost reverently.  
  
Harry heard the little girl's voice for the first time. "Oh mom, can I go on board and see him? Pleeeease?"  
  
"You've already seen him, at the station. Besides, the boy ain't something you gawk at like at a circus." Harry still couldn't see them but could feel the flow of the conversation moving. "Is he really Fred? How do you know?"  
  
"Asked him. Saw the scar. It's really there! Like a lightnin' bolt."  
  
"Oh the poor dear. No wonder he was by himself, I had to wonder. He was quite the young gentleman when he asked how to get on the platform" she said.  
  
"Never you mind that, do ya s'pose he remembers? Y'know, what.what 'you know who' looks like?" asked the twin, excitedly.  
  
Harry could just picture the look on the mom's face. "You are forbidden to ask him. No, don't you even dare. As if he needs remindin' of that on his first day of school."  
  
"Awright, awright, don't go off half-cocked" said the twin.  
  
The train whistle blew, breaking up the conversation. "Aw'right, get on board" the mom said, and the three boys climbed aboard. The twins leaned out the window and blew kisses back and forth to their mom and their little sister, who started to cry.  
  
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you a flock of owls" said one of the twins. "We'll even send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" said the other.  
  
"GEORGE!" roared the mom.  
  
"Just kidding, mom.jeeez" said George.  
  
The train gave a lurch and was underway. Harry saw the mother waving, and the little girl half laughing, half crying as she waved goodbye while running to try and keep up with the train as it gained speed.  
  
Harry watched the people and the platform disappear as the train rounded a turn, soon houses were flashing past the window as the train was making its way out of town. Harry's heart had leapt up into his chest with excitement. He didn't know where he was going or what it might be like, but it had to be better than Dursley Manor.  
  
The compartment door slid open and the youngest red-haired boy stood in the doorway.  
  
"Anyone sittin' there?" he asked, pointing at the empty seat across from Harry.  
  
"No, help yerself."  
  
"Thanks. Everywhere else is full." He glanced at Harry, then quickly turned his attention out the window, pretending he hadn't looked.  
  
Harry noticed that Ron still had a smudge on his nose.  
  
"Hey Ron" The twins appeared at the door. "Hey, we're going down towards the middle of the train, Lee Jordon's got a giant tarantula."  
  
"Right" mumbled Ron.  
  
"Harry," one of the twins piped up "did we intr'duce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is our brother Ron. See ya later!" and they were off.  
  
"Bye" said Harry and Ron.  
  
"Are you really Harry Potter?" blurted out Ron.  
  
Harry just nodded.  
  
"Oh. Well I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes" said Ron. "Have you really got the, you know.the scar?"  
  
Harry brushed his hair out of the way so Ron could see.  
  
"Gollleeee" Ron said as he stared. "So that's where.you know who.."  
  
"Yes" said Harry, before Ron could finish. "But I don't recall a thing about it."  
  
"Nuthin?" asked Ron eagerly.  
  
"Well, ah.I remember green. Just green, nothing else" said Harry.  
  
"Wow" said Ron, impressed. He sat and gawked at Harry for a couple of moments, and then, as if he realized what he was doing, looked quickly out the window again.  
  
"Are all yer family wizards?" asked Harry, who was finding Ron just as interesting as Ron was finding him.  
  
"Umm.yeah, I think so" said Ron. "I think Mom's got a cousin who's a tax attorney, but we never talk about him."  
  
"So, you must know tons of magic already?" The Weasleys must be one of those old wizarding families the boy in Madam Malkins' shop was referring to.  
  
"I heard you had to go live with muggles" said Ron. "What are they like?"  
  
"Horrible. Well, not all of them, by my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin are the dregs of their society" said Harry. "I wish I had three wizard brothers."  
  
"Five" said Ron. For some reason, Ron was acting blue. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You might say I got a lot ta live up to. Bill and Charlie have already graduated. Bill was 'head boy' and Charlie was Quidditch Captain. Percy's a prefect. Fred and George horseplay a lot but still get really good grades, plus everybody thinks they're funny. Everyone expects me to do as well, but if I do it's no big deal 'cuz the others have done it first. And ya never get anything new with five older brothers either, it's all hand-me-downs. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."  
  
Ron reached inside his jacket pocket and produced fat, grey rat, which was asleep. "His name is 'Scabbers' and he's about as useless as teats on a bull. He almost never wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for becoming a prefect. But they can't aff.I mean, I got Scabbers instead."  
  
Ron's ears went pink.  
  
Harry didn't think that was anything to be ashamed of. Until Hack came along and took him to Gringo's, Harry never had two coins to rub together.  
  
Sounds from the corridor interrupted. A large-ish woman pushing a cart opened the door and asked "Y'all want somethin' to nibble on?" The cart was laden with treats, and Harry realized he hadn't eaten anything all day. Ron looked up with a thinly veiled disgusted look, held up a ziploc baggie with a couple of sandwiches in it and said "no thanks, I'm set." He commented to himself "she always forgets I don't like mustard on my roast beef." He noticed Harry was paying attention to him and he quickly explained "she doesn't have a lot of time, you see, having four of us to fix lunch for."  
  
Harry looked at the cart but didn't recognize a single thing on it. Instead of the candy bars, moon pies, and other sweets he was accustomed to, this had Pumpkin Pralines, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, and Chocolate Toads.  
  
Harry returned with more stuff than he could carry. He dumped the load between himself and Ron, and dug into a Chocolate Toad. "Help yerself!" he said to Ron. Harry had never had an opportunity to share anything with anyone before. Well, not on a voluntary basis, and not with anyone other than Dirk. "Thanks!" said Ron, whose face brightened noticably.  
  
Harry had opened a Pumpkin Praline, and managed to scarf that down pretty fast. He picked up a Chocolate Toad, and looked at Ron with a quizzical eye. "They're not, eh, real toads, are they?" he asked. After all he had seen he wouldn't be surprised if it was. "No. Besides, it's the card you want. Inside each package is a card with a famous witch or wizard on it. I'm missing Agrippa and Ptolemy."  
  
Harry opened the package and out leapt a Chocolate Toad onto the window. Harry watched in amazement as it climbed to the window sill, and leapt out. "Pity" said Ron, "they only have one good jump in'em to begin with. See who is on the card."  
  
Harry looked at the card and saw an old man wearing half-moon glasses on a crooked nose, with impossibly long, flowing silver beard and hair, dressed in purple robes. Underneath the picture it said "Amos Dumbledore."  
  
"So this is Dumbledore" said Harry.  
  
"Don't tell me you never heard of Dumbledore?" asked Ron, very surprised. "Can I have a Toad? I might get Agrippa! Thanks!"  
  
Harry turned his card over and read "Amos Dumbledore, currently headmaster at Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindlewald in a cage match in 1945. Also for the discovery of the 12 uses of Dragons Blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music, and horseshoes."  
  
Harry turned the card back over and was astonished to find that Dumbledore's face had disappeared. "He's gone!" exclaimed Harry.  
  
"Well you can't expect him to hang around all day after all.he's a busy man!" said Ron. "He'll be back. Arrgh I've got Morganna again.I've got about six of her. Do you want it? You can start collecting."  
  
Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Toads yet unopened. "Help yourself" said Harry, "but in the muggle world, people stay put in photographs."  
  
"They do? Weird" said Ron.  
  
Harry stared as Dumbledore wandered across the frame of his card and give him a quick wink.  
  
The door to their compartment opened, and the round-faced boy called Neville poked his head in. "Have y'all see my toad?" he half asked/half whined. When both Harry and Ron shook their heads no, Neville's face got redder. "Dammit, I've lost him again."  
  
"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll turn up." said Harry.  
  
"Yeah" said Neville, unconvincingly. Well, if you see him.just holler." Neville went on his way.  
  
"If I had a toad I think I'd lose it on purpose" said Ron. "But of course I've got Scabbers so I really don't have a lot of room to talk, do I? He's absolutely useless.just sleeps all day. Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow, maybe make him a bit more interesting, want me to try it?"  
  
"Sure!" said Harry, always happy at the opportunity to see more magic.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Notes:  
  
Well I found some new references, ones that I usually use and thought I'd toss in this chapter.  
  
By the way, I apologize for the last chapter. It was, in retrospect, awfully bland. I think I was concentrating more on what was going to happen afterwards than during.  
  
One problem I've discovered is, now I have come up with situations and phrases to use just to push the 'southern fried' aspect, and I find myself almost trying to force some of them into the story.so much for my patience, eh?!? Don't worry.I've got a handful of good ones for later chapters.  
  
Ok, here goes:  
  
Uncle Vern's reference to the school having only short broomsticks to haul kids to school with equates to referring to 'the short bus'.which is typically a smaller school bus normally used to pick up kids that attend 'special school.' In short, he's referring to the students as all being somehow mentally deficient.  
  
"Firing on all eight." Referring to an engine firing on all eight cylinders, ie. Running smoothly. When an engine is not timed correctly, the cylinders do not fire at the right time (or at all) and the engine runs very poorly, very rough.  
  
"Probably don't even have eight" refers to a smaller engine to begin with. During it's heyday, American automobiles all used eight-cylinder engines, and six- and four-cylinder engines are still largely regarded as inferior simply because they are smaller.  
  
Both references basically mean someone isn't using all of their available mental faculties.  
  
"Good riddance." Means someone is glad to be rid of something or someone.  
  
Praline - this is a candy/dessert/treat confection that is usually made out of pecans and tons of sugar. I figured a little poetic license was in effect and such a thing could be made from pumpkin as well.  
  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based upon the characters and settings copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Books. No permission has been granted nor asked for regard this amphigory. 


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